


under the wing

by Cashay



Series: the wings to fly [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bullying, Half-angel Sam, Hate Crimes, Lucifer is a bit of a psychopath, M/M, Mating, Purism, Racism, Soul Bond, Violence, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-22
Updated: 2012-08-22
Packaged: 2017-11-12 16:11:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/493148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cashay/pseuds/Cashay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angels and humans have lived in peace for hundred of years and both societies are merging more and more. But despite the proclaimed "Age of Unity" Sam Winchester grows up in the knowledge that the angels despice him and the humans distrust him because he is half-human and half-angel</p><p>Going to College Sam is confronted with the bias and the racism that followed him all his life. But things take a turn for the worse when his attackers aren't satisfied with roughing him up anymore. And then there is Lucifer, his angelic roommate who Sam just can't figure out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Moorishflower](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moorishflower/gifts).



> originally posted on my LJ January 13th 2012

Of course it was the year Sam had to live in the dorms that the university decided to make mixed living mandatory. They wanted to encourage angel-human exchange. Bullshit, if you asked Sam. Whatever the reason, he was now stuck with some stupid angel if he wanted to stay in college.

And he had fought too hard to get here to let something like living in hell for a year stop him. It was ridiculous, really. He had wings; he should count as an angel. Only he lacked everything else, the super powers that every human envied in the angels, which classified him as human, thank you very much, bureaucracy.

Humans got jealous when they saw Sam's wings, especially when they found out that he could fly with them. Angels viewed them as scum, even worse than humans, because they sullied their wonderful bloodlines.

Sam came from one of the few families that had angel DNA in their family tree for a long while. Seven generations back, one of the Campbells had been stupid enough to get knocked up by an angel. And because the genes for wings were dominant and the ones for all the awesome rest weren't, the only thing that had stuck with his family since then were the wings.

Which sucked a lot because angels could somehow smell that they weren't pure and the visible reminder just made them more bitchy, especially since, in the sixties, interspecies sex had been a way of rebellion and the number of hybrids had skyrocketed.

Sam really wished he didn't have wings, though Dean seemed to be envious of him. Yeah, but Dean didn't have to keep up with the constant bullying from the full blown angels who were a lot stronger than Sam.

And Dean didn't have to live with someone who would surely turn into a tormentor for a whole god damn year.


	2. Chapter 1

Sam took a deep breath and pushed down the door handle. He had stood in front of what was supposed to be his room for the next year for close to fifteen minutes. It had long passed the point of looking suspicious and crossed into the territory of very, very creepy with a side of pathetic.

But Sam had hoped to arrive first; instead, he heard sounds from inside when he had pressed against the door to make sure – yeah, and that wasn't creepy at all. The revelation had left him set in stone on his doorstep.

Another deep breath and Sam pushed the door open. He would have to go in there eventually, anyway; better to get through it now so he could go find the library to lick his wounds.

The angel inside turned around when Sam opened the door to stare at him. He looked like he wanted to say something before he tilted his head and sniffed the air.

Sam had seen the disgust that appeared on his roommate’s face often enough, but it still hurt. And while Sam might be good at controlling his face and voice, he was crap at keeping his wings in check. Most humans might not be able to understand wing language, but angels did and so the rejection was pretty obvious for Lucifer to see.

“Hi...” Sam tried to be friendly despite the instant rejection. “I'm Sam Winchester, your roommate.”

The other guy just kept looking at him with his piercing blue eyes. He was actually pretty handsome; his hair was light brown and his face could only be described as striking, but what actually was most intriguing were his wings. They were a pure black, but when light fell onto them, it seemed like dark red flames flared up, making the wings look alive with fire.

And those were pretty inappropriate thoughts Sam should really keep out of his head, especially because the angel would smell if he got so much as slightly aroused. He really didn't want to screw things up that bad already.

“Lucifer, Lucifer Enzeru.”

Sam was more than a bit surprised that he even got an answer and pretty much shocked when Lucifer's folded up wings unfurled slightly in an angel way of saying hello.

“Nice to meet you,” Sam offered, but Lucifer had already turned around and continued with unpacking his things. He had chosen the bed to the right, which was okay with Sam, who now had a desk that stood in front of the window.

“I came to college to study, not to make friends. Keep to your side of the room, I will keep to mine and there will be no problems,” Lucifer announced, without even turning around to look at Sam.

“Uh... sure. Yeah. No problem.”

Sam’s happiness at having a roommate who would actually talk to him and not just torment the crap out of him took a slight hit, but at least Lucifer hadn't thrown all of Sam's boxes out of the window – yet.

Sam itched to ask Lucifer questions, about what he was studying and if he had already picked up his schedule, if he knew where the library was and if he had tried out if their shower worked.

Instead, he shot silent looks over to where Lucifer was unpacking, hoping to get a glimpse of books that might give him a clue about the subjects Lucifer was taking. He ended up trying out the shower himself and yes, it worked, actually had hot water too.

For a moment he contemplated if he should tell Lucifer, but he was still too intimidated by the other angel and he was pretty sure Lucifer had meant that he didn't want to make friends. Probably not even speak to anyone.

Getting settled into his room was very anticlimactic. Before hearing about that new bullshit rule the university had imposed Sam had hoped he would make a new friend; they would laugh and tell each other where they came from and what they wanted to do.

After hearing that he was going to have to share a room with an angel, he had been sure he would be harassed and his stuff would get thrown out of the window; it wouldn't be the first time. Instead, nothing had happened but a cold introduction and an even colder message to not try and talk.

Well, so here he was, done with unpacking and flopping down on his bed, his right wing sprawled all over the floor because he really didn't feel like cramping them both on the small bed. Why the hell did he have to grow that fucking big anyway?

He closed his eyes and willed his body to relax, something that seemed impossible after the last few days. Just when he felt like he was getting somewhere, and all the arguments with Dad and Dean that had forced his muscles into tight knots of tension weren't all that bad, he felt something brush against his wings.

Instinctively, Sam pulled his wings close to his body, trying to get the sensitive appendages out of reach for whoever was set on tormenting him, but when he opened his eyes, Lucifer was just standing there, looking at him with an unreadable expression.

“You need to take better care of your wings,” Lucifer announced, like normal people would talk about getting a new toaster.

“What?” Sam was taken aback by the turn this conversation had taken. He had anticipated anything but this.

Lucifer didn't make sense; at one moment he told him he didn't want to make friends and in the next, he talked to Sam about wing care. Self-consciously, Sam looked down at his wings, expecting a giant stain or something else that could provoke Lucifer to make that statement. But he only sees the color of sandstone that had always been his boring wings. He knows the down is white and at the back of his wings, red is mixed into the color of sand, making it look like he is spattered with blood. Still, his wings aren't really beautiful or exceptional, so maybe this is just Lucifer's way of 'friendly teasing'.

“They aren't groomed properly, haven't been for a while by their state, and whatever products you are using to clean them are crap. You need new ones.”

For a short moment Sam contemplated finding himself a new roommate, because his old one is apparently crazy, as what angel who thinks anything about himself would give a half-breed grooming advice?

“My brother grooms them.” Sam defended the state of his wings, pulling them more tightly against his back, as if Lucifer was about to pull feathers from them like others had done.

“He's doing a shit job. You should go to a wingcare shop to get them done properly.” Lucifer sounded like Dean's grooming had personally offended him and that just didn’t make sense.

“Newsflash, airhead, they don't accept crossbreeds,” Sam snapped, deciding that Lucifer was definitely screwing around with him.

Great, how he had actually managed to get the only angel that could be subtle about hating him, Sam had no idea; someone up there had to hate him.

And Lucifer had reminded him of another problem. With Dean gone, he had no one to ask for grooming. He had gotten pretty good at grooming himself, but there were just spots he couldn't reach and grooming himself didn't have the same calming effect that being groomed by Dean had.

Lucifer looked offended by Sam's rejection, but Sam couldn't bring himself to care, because really, what did Lucifer have to be upset about? He wasn't the one that probably wouldn’t ever get a decent grooming.

Lucifer turned back to his boxes and raised his wings in a way that clearly told everyone seeing it – Sam – that he wasn't interested in any further conversation. He was probably already regretting ever talking to Sam or plotting a new way of tormenting him.

His wings still pulled tightly against his back, Sam stood up from his bed. He was pretty sure he wouldn't be able to relax anytime soon. Angels just made him twitchy and, no matter what he did, the day just seemed to get weirder.

But it didn't really turn bad, so that should count as a plus. He had no idea what he was supposed to think about Lucifer. The angel hadn't really harmed him so far, but Sam couldn't really make up his mind whether the comments about grooming were meant to get under his skin or just be nice.

Lucifer wasn't making any sense and after days of dealing with his brother and his Dad, Sam didn't feel like he could put up with another person in his life who didn't make any sense.

Which left him with one opportunity: fleeing to the library.

**~*~**

The library had calmed him down and thankfully neither angel nor human had spoken to him, which meant he had been able to bury his head in legal texts that were so much easier to read than people.

His luck ran out, though, when he left the library to get his schedule and then maybe get something to eat. In front of the office were a bunch of people, all of them angels. Of course Sam would be the lucky guy to run into them.

For a moment he contemplated fleeing, but he knew it was too late to escape when he saw one of them sniffing at the air, before his lips curled back in silent disgust.

Busted.

If he left now, they would only follow him, and if they caught him somewhere secluded, this thing would only get more ugly, so he would just have to get through it.

“Oh, look an abomination,” the one that had smelled him sneered, wings raised to display aggressiveness in a way that only angels barely older than teenagers could.

“Are we stating the obvious today?” Sam snapped, not ready to make this easy for them or back down anytime soon.

Dean had always told him he lacked the coldness that he needed to deal with people like that, but though Sam had tried, he just wasn't good at not letting them get to him. He got angry far too easily when it came to the teasing of angels who saw him as something disgusting just because of his genetics.

That they could get him to get angry so easily was something that most of his tormentors had enjoyed. His aggravation would be visible, anyway, whether he controlled his voice or not. He just couldn't keep control over his wings.

With his mother dying when he was still young, he’d never had anyone who could show him how to keep his wings in check. They slapped what he felt into the face of everyone who could read it. And with the cultures of angels and humans mixing more and more, humans actually made an effort to learn wing language. Sam hated it.

“How cute, his wings are flapping,” another of the angels commented; it was a female who, under other circumstances, Sam would probably have found attractive.

“Yeah, the screw-up has no idea how to properly use them.”

Sam snorted and considered just shouldering past them into the office, but that would leave his back vulnerable and just the thought of his wings in reach of their hands made Sam shiver.

“And they're ugly. I mean, c'mon, who has wings that look like they just fell out of the sandbox.”

Another one joined in, his own wings looking like he fell into a paint pot, which was probably the reason he was desperate to take part in picking at someone else for his wings for a change.

“A real shame to let someone like him have wings. He's really a disgrace.”

One of the group, the guy that had smelled him first, started to stroll forward, the others following. Sam knew he should put some distance between them, but he wasn't ready to back down, he wouldn't let them corner him.

He had enough encounters with bullying to know that whatever came now would be painful and leave him with a few bruises and missing feathers, if he was lucky. If he wasn't, maybe they were brave enough to break a bone or two.

“Maybe we should cut them off,” another one suggested, leaving Sam to take one instinctive step back as fear surged through him.

He had been beaten up, had got bones broken and feathers ripped out. Sometimes they had even poured paint over his wings, but no one had ever so much as suggested taking his wings off. It was common knowledge that 80% of angels and 60% of crossbreds died when they got their wings removed by force.

The few that lived had to fight with severe health problems. Cutting off someone's wings was considered a social taboo and the penalties for it where high.

Sam registered that the other angels seemed shocked as well, but then again the girl spoke, stepping closer and reaching for Sam's left wing.

“Maybe we should. We'd just set things right. He is an abomination; it isn't as if anyone is going to care, anyway.”

Trying to get his wings out of reach, Sam turned until his back was pressed against the wall, trying to get a feeling for if his tormentors were serious or just trying to freak him out. He hoped the latter, even if it meant they were succeeding.

But the look on their faces Sam had seen often enough on the faces of their people; it was the blind belief that they were a better race, that Sam was a disgrace that wasn't supposed to ever be alive. In their logic it made perfect sense to get rid of him.

“We're in the middle of the university, surely you aren't that stupid.”

He grasped onto the hope that they wouldn't risk doing anything that stupid in public but he wasn't sure. Sometimes angels could get this weird group dynamic which seemed to kill each ounce of common sense.

"But you won't always be on campus," the guy that seemed to be the leader of their stupid little gang spoke again. "And we can smell you over miles; after all, you stink worse than any wet dog."

Of course they couldn't smell him that wide, but still what he said stood. If Sam left campus, there would really be no one to protect him. Most angels wouldn't look twice once they got his smell and humans didn't stand a chance, at least not without weapons.

He was pretty sure that those guys wouldn't be able to do it. Threatening to cut of wings and actually doing it were two completely different things. Sam was sure - or desperately hopeful - that they wouldn't be able to stand the screams and the blood and the stench that would accompany hurting someone so much.

"I'd love to see you try," Sam retorted, even though he knew that he wouldn't stand a fucking chance against the angels if they decided to actually fight him. If he had angelic strength, maybe that would be different, but he didn't and, as much as Dean had taught him to defend himself, he just wouldn't stand a chance against a bunch of angels.

They huffed, their wings raising in a display of annoyance more than aggression. Their leader pushed against Sam's chest, forcing him further into the wall. Sam didn't lean against the pressure; instead, he let the other student press him against the wall before forcefully bringing his knee up into the guy's groin.

As strong as angels were, even they couldn't just ignore that, and the guy doubling over gave Sam the chance to push past him and out of the group. He had gone two steps, already starting to hope that he would get away like this, when he felt hands at his wings and a sudden, forceful yank that left him keening in pain.

Sam whirled around, only to see the girl holding up a handful of feathers with a cruel grin.

"Go on, run away, unless you want us to make sure those awful sandbox wings don't bother anyone else."

For a moment, Sam's anger was burning so hot that he wanted nothing more than throw himself at them and rip them all to pieces. But of course he couldn't because he was just a stupid, weak human that had the luck of having two fucking wings.

He couldn't win, he probably couldn't even seriously injure one of them, not with how many there were. That only made it worse.

The pain in his wings rivaling the pain in his hurt pride, Sam turned around and fled into the office with his wings raised high over his head, in a gesture of defense or aggression, he wasn't really sure.

**~*~**

Sam let out a breath that he hadn't even known he had held in when he closed the door to his room behind him. He had his schedule clutched tight in his hands, suddenly feeling very tired. If just getting his schedule was going to be so hard, he didn't really want to think about the rest.

Lucifer sat at his desk, his back to Sam and, for a moment, Sam just wanted to talk to him, tell him how fucking much he hated it here already after just this stupid day. And how his family would tell him that they told him all the time that college wouldn't be good for him. How he had been so excited and hopeful that somehow things would better.

But this was Lucifer, he was an angel, he didn't want friends. And Sam didn't want to remind him that he was just a crossbreed that angels hated.

Putting his schedule down, Sam went to brush his teeth, not even bothering to look after the wing where they had ripped out the feathers.

After the initial rage and fear had passed, encounters like this always left him tired and weary. Once he couldn't confront the angels anymore, he just wanted to lie down somewhere and go to sleep, occasionally wishing he wouldn't wake up anytime soon.

He had really hoped things in college would be different, though he had known how foolish this wish was. Angels were the same, everywhere. Though once grown up and out of college, they usually stopped simply attacking crossbreeds; it was below their pride.

Not that he wasn't going to be forced to put up with spite and hate, but at least he wouldn't have to worry if he'd been killed as soon as he stepped out of the room. He really should have known better; after all, the suicide rate for crossbreeds was never higher than in high school and college.

But he hadn't dared to think about more years of tormenting to come, this time without a safe home to run back to at the end of an awful day. Instead, he had decided to believe in all the stupid clichés that existed about college.

With those thoughts Sam fell into a fitful sleep.


	3. Chapter 2

Sam woke from the beeping of his alarm clock. Annoyed, he flicked his wing to shut it off, only then noticing that there was something sticky on his right wing. Immediately, he jerked awake, sitting up and in the process not only managing to shut off his clock, but also sending it sprawling to the floor with two books.

He didn't bother with picking them up, though, instead curving his wings around to inspect whatever joke Lucifer had played on him. But instead of paint or tar – yes, they had done that once; it had hurt horribly to clean his wings and Sam hadn't gone out for weeks afterwards - there was some weird smelling salve on the small bald spot where the bitch had ripped his feathers out.

Still dumbstruck and half asleep, Sam looked up when Lucifer came out of the bathroom, already perfectly groomed and just grabbing his bag before leaving the room. The angel stopped when he noticed Sam staring at him like he had gone crazy. His eyes fell onto the bald spot and with a cold, "It was inflamed," he left the room.

When Lucifer left, Sam slowly got out of bed, picking up his things. Classes would start after the weekend; he had several meetings today, though, which meant he should probably be thankful for his alarm clock ringing, though he still didn't really know who put it on in the first place.

He managed to shower without getting his wings wet, which was something he didn't always accomplish, when he was still groggy like this, most mornings.

A few minutes were spent contemplating whether to wash off the salve or not, but after taking a closer look, he noticed that his skin really looked better than it should after feathers getting ripped out, so he decided this probably wasn't some kind of evil plan.

  
**~*~**   
  


Even without classes, the weekend turned out to be incredibly busy. Sam barely saw anything of Lucifer, though when they went to things together, Lucifer actually sat down close to him, which was weird because Lucifer was an angel and, well, he wasn't supposed to be close to Sam without being forced.

Though Sam noticed he wasn't the only one being avoided by angels. Somehow people started whispering when Lucifer entered and none of them ever tried sitting close to him and making new contacts like they seemed to do all of the time.

Sam wondered why. Sure, Lucifer was older than everyone else here, but only by a few years. It would have been weird with humans and the only thing that made sense was to remember that angels were just weird like this; every interruption in the perfectly laid out plan was like a contagious, deadly disease.

In Sam's opinion, Lucifer's huge, amazing wings should have made up for any flaws he had in his résumé, which was a thought he tried not to think at all, because having a crush on the wings of a roommate who didn't speak more than necessary with you was just wrong.

And if Lucifer ever found out the careful truce between them would sure as hell end and end bloody, especially for Sam.

Somehow, the wide berth they gave Lucifer transferred onto Sam, too, as long as he sat only a few seats away from Lucifer. Sam had no idea why, but he wasn't going to question it; it was actually quite nice. And somehow he really didn't want his roommate to see how weak he was.

The events at which Lucifer wasn't present turned out to mostly be awful, not always because of angels but they were a major factor. The other humans apparently were distrustful of Sam and he couldn't even blame them for it; he wouldn't have trusted an angel either.

He could have simply explained that he was a half-breed, but after the first five frustrating conversations, he simply waited for the word to spread.

Classes starting turned out to be both a blessing and a curse. Most of them were pretty interesting and the fact that humans and angels instructed made for a diversity that Sam found he enjoyed. He didn't get singled out, either, at least not while classes were going on.

Afterwards, he was still occasionally being shoved around, punched or insulted a bit, but he was used to it by now and it felt more like the angels were just doing it out of the weird sense of duty they had.

He met nice people, a few that would actually talk to him without asking him all kind of questions about being a crossbreed and his wings and how things worked for him. One of his new friends was Jo, a girl he had occasionally seen in his hometown and was surprised to find here already.

She told him she finished high school early and had decided to get far away from her overbearing mother for college. Sam could really relate to that wish to flee family; after all, he had done it himself. It was nice to have someone from his hometown, too. Somehow, that made things a lot easier.

The other one was a guy named Ash who seemed to care more for computers than anything else - including personal hygiene. He and his angelic roommate seemed to have a lot of fun together, which was a bit weird since Ash was everything an angel was told to avoid like the plague.

Ash was a bit weird at the best of times and downright crazy when he was at his worst. But he was funny and he treated Sam like he didn't have two gigantic, ugly appendages spreading from his back.

Another surprise was Crowley, the professor that was going to teach Political Science and also Sam's History course. From the silent whisper that had gone through the ranks of the angels, Sam took that there had to be something wrong with their instructor or whatever counted as wrong for angels.

He was sitting next to Lucifer - the closest they had ever been - because literally every seat was taken. For a moment, he considered asking his roommate what it was that got the feathers of all those angels ruffled. But Lucifer looked as cold as ever and Sam didn't dare to initiate conversation, reminding himself that Lucifer could very well tar his wings since they were living together.

Before the silent tumult had completely died down Crowley had put his briefcase on his desk with a loud thud and everyone was immediately quiet.

"Yes, I'm no pure angel," he started and Sam found he was as shocked as the angels had been. "Don't even think of passing your self-esteem issues onto me. I know quite a lot of nasty tricks, and believe me, I can make your life a living hell if you decide to annoy me."

The room was still shocked silent, though some of the angels were moving uneasily in their chairs, probably conflicted over what the right angel protocol for such a situation would be. A weary look to his left showed Sam that Lucifer had a little grin on his face, though why he had no idea.

"Anyone ever heard of Dominic Evans?"

Now Sam felt uneasy, too, because he didn't know who the guy was supposed to be and he knew a lot; he prided himself on his knowledge and not knowing whatever politician or law-maker Crowley was referring to made him twitchy.

But at least he wasn't the only one because all students looked at loss for what to say, some were even frantically paging in their books or typing away on their laptops and iPhones.

"That's right, no one does. He wasn't half bad before he decided to try and threaten me into giving him a better mark. Are we clear?"

A low murmur came from the group of angels and humans alike. No one wanted to end in the gutter because they had pissed their college instructor off, but for angels it was probably a worse threat. Prestige and status was everything in their society and not being known by anyone was probably their biggest nightmare.

To Sam's surprise, Lucifer was actually pretty good at discussing and debating. He knew his way around most topics, though wars seemed to really be his thing because, when it came down to that, not even Crowley knew more than him.

The thing that was a bit anticlimactic, still, was living with Lucifer. The angel didn't treat him badly, but most of all, they simply didn't interact. Lucifer spent much of the time... somewhere else and Sam was hanging out with Jo and Ash as long as he wasn't studying.

The only time he really spent in his room was in the evening when his bed proved to be way more comfortable than the library to study or finish his latest assignment. And no matter whether he fell asleep on his papers or not, the next morning everything was stacked on his table and he had a blanket pulled over him.

Lucifer doing little things like this was kind of creepy, but at least it made Sam hope that maybe Lucifer didn't completely hate him. And it was way better than waking up covered in paint or chewing gum or whatever.

While there still wasn't any friendship to speak of, Sam found he and Lucifer could work together pretty well. They had found that out by accident when somehow they’dd started a heated debate about their latest political science paper and, after hours of arguing, pacing and angry wing gestures, they had come up with something that made a lot of sense and brought both of them a good mark.

After that, all assignments that needed partners had been silently agreed on to be done together.

Working together proved to be both amazing and frustrating. Amazing because Lucifer, when working, was simply that: amazing. He found everything he set his mind on, little details that Sam would have sworn were irrelevant but in the end turned out to be the key point in their project.

His perspective never ceased to awe Sam either. While Sam himself didn't really think just what he had been told, Lucifer often had a vantage point Sam would have never come up with. It was, at the same time, a bit creepy and incredibly rewarding.


	4. Chapter 3

What proved to be less rewarding than his academic achievements, when it came to the other people. Some of the humans were jealous and Sam was pretty sure they thought he got some special treatment because of his wings.

The angels... well, they hated him because he was a lowly crossbreed and still beat them in most of the tests and assignments. He liked to tease them about it, too. Hell, he knew that pissing off most angels on campus wasn't smart, but he didn't have anything but his mind to counter their strength so, when they insisted on further pushing him into walls, he reminded them that they were simply too stupid.

Though the angels from his year weren't the worst, they were just proving to themselves that they were still better. Somehow, though, he had managed to piss off a group of angel who were close to graduating and seemed to have appointed it their life goal to hate him.

They were the real deal, the ones that ended with people like him dead or in the hospital. The other little gang of angels hadn't followed through on their threats, but those three certainly would rip off his wings, given the chance.

Zachariah, Uriel and Raphael were everything an angel should be if you listened to the idiots that were currently leading angel society. And they hated Sam with a ferocity that made Sam want to hide under his bed every time he had a run in with them.

Mostly, it was still only the usual harassing, but there was an underlying threat, a promise to Sam that they would fuck him over good because he didn't belong here and should go lie down somewhere and die, but since he didn't plan to do this, they would happily help him along.

Not seldom, those encounters ended with heavy bruises and a lot of missing feathers, but so far Sam had been lucky and nothing more had happened.

  
**~*~**

Huddled in his wings to keep himself away from the rain, Sam left the library where he had studied with Jo and Ash. He had gotten nothing done like usually when he studied with those two. They just called it studying so they had an excuse to hang out and spend time together.

Ash always flirted with Jo, lacking any kind of talent, which was extremely amusing if you asked Sam, less so if you asked Jo, who found it annoying. She had actually threatened to punch Ash out if he didn't stop it, but that seemed to count as encouragement in the weird world Ash lived in and so Sam had a lot of things to laugh about lately.

The weather was less funny, though. Sam just hated rain, it soaked through his wings and made them heavy plus he just dripped all over the place when he got inside, which banned him from properly entering the library before he hadn't dried off. And he didn't want to be the center of Lucifer's wrath either because he had ruined some paper of his with his dripping wings.

Pondering how angels coped with that shit and if he should ask Lucifer about it, Sam hurried over the empty campus toward his dorm. It was tempting to ask because this fall proved to be very wet and he just couldn't spare half an hour every time he went somewhere to towel off his wings, so at least he wouldn't drip on anything.

Suddenly he found himself being grabbed by the arm and bodily hauled face first into the next tree. All the air left his lungs upon the impact and he struggled to get free, hoping to get an idea of who his attacker was.

"Well, seems like we finally got you alone, abomination."

Raphael's breath was hot in his ear as she drawled the words lazily. Sam wished he didn't know who his attackers were; not knowing was better than knowing for sure that he was going to be beaten up pretty badly.

"Figured that you'd be too much of a coward to do this with witnesses," Sam taunted, hoping that he could get Raphael pissed off. That would make her sloppy and maybe Sam would be able to make a break for the closest building.

"No, not stupid enough. We don't want any witnesses, Sam."

That was Zachariah; he always sounded like he was talking about the latest company share prices while threatening Sam with torture and death. He was somewhere to Sam's left, but with his face pressed into the tree, there wasn't much he could make out.

He felt a pair of hands grabbing his left and one his right wing, holding him as tight as Raphael was holding him against the tree, completely ignoring his futile struggle.

When they had him restrained the fear hit Sam; it had been hidden under adrenaline and the crazy hope that he could somehow get away, but now, without any possibility to flee the panic rose and overtook his mind. He was helpless, they could do anything to him and in that weather no one would walk by.

Sam started to struggle again, desperate to get away, to somehow fight his way out though his strength didn't match that of one angel, much less three.

"Ah, the sweet smell of fear." The lazy drawl was Uriel and of course he would be the one to enjoy that smell so much, though Sam doubted the other ones disliked it much. "You know, it actually makes that stink of yours bearable; you should wear that scent more often, Samuel, it fits you."

“Fuck off, psycho,” Sam spat. There was not much else he could do; struggling was useless and he had to do something to keep a handle on his fears and stop himself from begging.

If they wanted to kill him now, they could. There was nothing he could do to defend himself in this vulnerable position, not with how strong the angels were and not with their grip on his wings. No one would see them break his neck or tear him apart.

And by the time somebody found him, the rain would have washed away all the evidence. They would never find the killer and Sam would end as a side note in the paper, another tragic death of a halfbreed.

Maybe the university would try and advocate angelic-crossbreed understanding for a while, until the bad press had died down, but soon he would be forgotten by anyone but his family. And John and Dean would both feel guilty for ever letting him leave.

Being confronted with the fact that the chance that they killed him was higher than the chance that he lived was like a physical blow. He didn't want to die, he couldn't die! It was hard not to start begging, to plead for his life, but if he had to end like this, he wanted to end with dignity or as much as he still had left.

He didn't want to give them the satisfaction of seeing him broken. They knew he was afraid, they could smell it, but that was all they were going to get.

“You know, I'm not sure what we should do with you. Killing would be too easy for someone like you. You should be in pain; you deserve pain for being such a disgrace, for flaunting your dirty blood in our face every day,” Raphael commented, like normal people talked about the weather.

There was a sharp tug from his right wing and Sam had to bite his lips to keep himself from making a noise. The tugging continued, only interrupted by the sharp feeling Sam already knew too well as his feathers being ripped out.

“There was this nice group that told us that they thought we ought to get rid of your wings,” Uriel drawled lazily, while still ripping out feather after feather. “I think their idea was brilliant.”

For a moment Sam couldn't stop his wings from thrashing, showing the panic that was rising inside of him again, but Uriel's and Zachariah's grips were too firm; they just held him tighter, their hands painfully tight were they gripped him.

“I agree,” Zachariah said, before joining into the feather plugging.

“Let go off me, you fucking assholes!” Sam snarled when he felt the feathers of both of his wings slowly but surely being pulled out, everyone a painful stab.

“But we are just getting started, Samuel,” Raphael drawled behind him and suddenly there was a thigh wrentched between his legs, forcing them apart even though Sam did his damndest to keep them closed.

The panic in his belly began to swell again, making him nauseous as he realized what exactly they could do to him. They could rip out his feathers and then cut off his wings. They could beat him and kick him, they could cut him open, they could rape him and then leave him in the rain to die.

Sam had no doubt that they were capable of doing such things, not after the first time of looking into their eyes. They thought that what they did was right, that they were following some divine will or whatever. They really believed that Sam, because of his parents, deserved this.

“There as so many nice things we can still do with you. You should keep us entertained for the evening and once we're done with you, you will know what your proper place is, abomination.”

For a moment, Sam took up fighting again, trying with all his strength to get a grip on Raphael and take her out. Fear was no longer the only thing coiling in his belly, there was rage, too. Because he wasn't useless, his place wasn't down in the gutter. He was worth more than any of those angels and he wouldn't make it easy on them. If they wanted to take him out, they were in for one hell of a fight.

But all they did was laugh at his efforts to get a grip on one of them and take them down. They cheered him on, mockery strong in their voice when they told him how he was a good little pet and how he would soon thank them for showing him his place in life.

When Sam had exhausted himself, fueled by his own desperation and their constant taunts, he hung limp in their hold. His breath was shallow and fast, only the last shred of his pride keeping him away from a panic attack that wanted to pull him over. He felt so weak and useless, just like they said.

There was nothing he could do to stop them from hurting him in whatever sick ways they saw fit for someone that was wrong in their eyes. For a short moment, some rational part in him wondered how anyone could hate another person so much for just existing, but it was drowned out by the primal fear for his life moments later.

He was barely able to bite back a sob, the burning in his lungs unbearable as his heart pounded far too fast in his chest. The worst thing was not being able to fight back, not being able to do anything at all, but wait for them to decide his fate.

A piercing scream filled the night as Sam suddenly was overwhelmed with pain. He was dimly aware that he had started thrashing in his captors’ arms again, but the pain was stronger than anything else, drowning inside a sea of agony, the laughter and jeering comments lost under the crashing of the waves.

Slowly the pain subsided enough for Sam to be aware of his surroundings again, though when he did he nearly wished he would have just stayed lost in the pain. They were commenting on his stamina and how beautifully he screamed. How sick did people need to be not to feel any regret at torturing them?

Sam didn't know what exactly they had done to get him in so much pain, but it had something to do with his right wing, of that he was sure. From the blood running down his feathers, he could only guess that they had used a knife or another sharp object. Not for the first time, Sam was glad for his analyzing mind, but he had probably never been quite this grateful; analyzing everything around him gave him the opportunity to blend out the pain as much as possible.

When the talking stopped he readied himself for another attack, but the pain never came. Instead, he heard a smooth voice. "What exactly do you think you're doing here, gentlemen?"

It took Sam a moment to realize that this was Crowley, the annoying professor that seemed to think that no one was even half as good as him or possibly ever could be. Sam would have never thought he could possibly be happy to hear that voice but, he had been so wrong.

"This is none of your business, be happy it isn't you or your boy toy," Raphael told him with her cold voice, not worried about a professor’s presence at all.

Sam felt his fledging hope drowning in more panic, remembering that Crowley wasn't a pure angel either and that Raphael came from one of the mightiest families in the country. He was screwed, so completely screwed, dying would probably feel nice.

"You should know better than to threaten me, Ms. Angelus." Crowley didn't sound frightened at all, as if the chance of Raphael actually moving a finger against him was so slim it didn't even exist.

Sam heard someone walking closer on the wet grass, only now he realized that the rain had stopped; it was weird, the rain had been kind of soothing and it would have allowed Sam to cry without feeling like he was giving in to Raphael and her goons.

"I can promise you, you won't like the outcome." Even Sam, in his slightly dazed and adrenaline fueled state, could hear the danger in Crowley's voice, like he was the one who could crush all of them with a look.

This time it was Uriel who spoke and for a moment Sam wondered if it meant that he was distracted and Sam could break free, but before he could even make his move, he felt something twist in his wound and he could barely hold back a cry of pain. "What are you going to do, demon? You think anything will stick on us?"

Crowley erupted into sudden laughter and Sam felt his captors shift like they were uncomfortable, but he was just glad for the break, trying once more to get free even though the angels seemed to be holding him like he was only an afterthought.

"Oh, I know your mommies and daddies own the police, but if you try and screw with me, there will be no police, only three bodies found somewhere in a ditch. There will be outrage about three young angels being tortured to death and about the police never finding the killer. And there is not a fucking thing your parents or your money can do to protect you."

Silence fell after Crowley had spoken and for a moment Sam thought that they would just dismiss him, but there had to have been something in his voice Sam had missed because the next thing he knew, they let go of him and the only thing holding him upright was the tree in front of him.

"I recommend you stop harassing other people. If I hear of it, I will reconsider the ditch and don't think a moment that I won't find out. Oh and don't bother coming to class; all of you are going to get an F anyway."

Even though Crowley was still standing there, Sam felt someone moving to his side, gently putting an arm on his shoulder, steering him away from the tree and towards Crowley.

Sam was surprised he could even walk, his legs were shaking so badly, the adrenaline leaving his body weak, and it cost him every ounce of will power to not throw up there and then. But he wasn't going to give them the satisfaction of seeing that, so he pulled himself back together, forced himself to walk tall, when all he wanted to do was curl up and die.

The other guy was still walking next to him and Sam guessed that he was there to make sure Sam didn't fall over. He managed to walk until he was sure that they couldn't see him anymore; what happened after that Sam didn't know.

Somehow Crowley and this other guy, an angel with black hair and blue eyes, must have gotten him into their flat because the next thing Sam was aware of was him lying in a bed and someone talking close to him. For a moment the only thing he was knew was that this wasn't his bed and then everything came hitting back, making his stomach clench.

Sam didn't even make it out of the bed before he was throwing up. The voices stopped and suddenly there was Crowley and this other angel Sam didn't know; he had to be the guy that Raphael had called Crowley's boy toy, though right now Sam wouldn't have cared if it had been Crowley's mother. They pushed him back into the bed Sam had nearly fallen out of and the black haired angel went away, coming back moments later and silently cleaning up the mess.

"You're gonna be okay kid," Crowley promised him, as he pressed Sam back into the cushions.

For a moment Sam felt like someone had dropped him in a parallel universe because Crowley actually acted like he gave a shit about Sam. He was too stunned and tired, however, to comment on it, he just wanted to curl up into a ball and die right now.

Everything that his Dad and Dean had said about college had come true and as soon as they heard of this, they would try to get Sam to get back again, though all Sam had ever wanted had been to get away from them. It wasn't that he didn't love them, but they were treating him like he would break at any moment, like he wasn't ready for the world just because he happened to have wings.

It was hard to bite back the sob, but Sam didn't feel like he could share his own pathetic weaknesses with anyone else; how easily Raphael and her goons had overpowered him had been bad enough, he didn't need Crowley to know that he was close to a panic attack.

A sharp slap to his head had him sitting upright in bed, staring at a smirking Crowley who now had only a hint of compassion left on his face. "I told you you'd be okay," he repeated, like that was supposed to solve all of Sam's problems.

"Castiel patched you up; don't worry, they didn't do any permanent damage, though the feathers will itch like hell when they grow back. As long as nothing gets infected you'll heal just fine."

Sam turned around slightly, offering the guy - Castiel - a grateful smile. But Castiel looked like something had crawled down his throat and died there, even though Sam really didn't understand why.

"You can't go to the police, those idiots - or rather, their families - own them. It would only end badly for you."

Sam had still looked at Castiel and hadn't missed the anger that flickered over his face when Crowley said that sentence. Ah, so that was what made him so pissed off; apparently Castiel really wasn't happy about letting them get away. Sam wasn't sure if he was himself; on the one hand he wanted to make those bastards suffer and on the other... well, he just wanted to curl up in a ball and forget this night ever happened, though his damaged wings would make that hard.

"I doubt they'll ever bother you again, but if they do, call me, I took the liberty to add my number to your phone."

If he was being honest with himself, Sam had to admit he was more than a little overwhelmed by everything happening right now, but he wasn't going to admit that to Crowley or even himself, he was a Winchester and denial was something that was in their genes.

"I've gotta go," he announced, interrupting Crowley's monologue before he could say anything else.

He was grateful for Crowley's help, no doubt about it, he owed that man his fucking life, but that didn't mean that he wasn't ready to freak the fuck out and would prefer to do that alone.

Crowley looked like he wanted to say something to that, but thankfully Castiel did something - Sam really didn't want to know what - and Crowley stayed silent, offering Sam his bloodstained jacket.

"You have to come back so I can take a look at your wings. Change the bandages two times a day and disinfect the wound." Castiel pushed something into Sam's hand and Sam grabbed it without thinking, or even looking at what it was; he just needed to get out.

  
**~*~**

Another empty spot in his memories was the way from Crowley's flat to his dorm-room or how he found his way into bed without waking Lucifer. Though maybe he had woken Lucifer, he wasn't sure. His mind was one blissful empty spot.

When he woke up the next morning, the first thing that hit him was the throbbing pain in his right wing. He tried to cradle it closer to himself, but it turned out that moving was a really bad idea that he shouldn't consider doing in the near future. Slowly, he turned his head; his whole body was feeling like someone had punched and kicked him, which had been what had happened, though Sam couldn't remember them putting so much effort in anything but his wings.

A look at his clock nearly sent him into a panic attack. It was already twelve and he had missed almost all of his classes. What stopped him from scrabbling out of bed despite his throbbing body was the piece of paper that was propped up against a water bottle on his bedside table.

Called you in sick. Stay in bed. I rewrapped your wing, take the painkillers and sleep. I'll bring food. - Lucifer.

The far too familiar feeling of being in a parallel world returned because this was Lucifer, the angel Lucifer, and he had practically just told Sam that he cared and was looking out for Sam, and that was the scariest thing Sam had ever thought about. Though as weird as it was, it was definitely better than Lucifer taking advantage of h is condition and finishing what Raphael, Zachariah and Uriel had started.

Sam glanced at the label of the painkillers before simply taking two and washing them down with the water that Lucifer had put there, happy that he could at least keep that down. He stared at the message for a minute or two, unsure of what to make of it, before deciding that that could wait until he didn't feel like he should hide from the world in the darkest corner he could find or, if that wasn't a possibility, just run away until he couldn't anymore.

Instead of giving into those impulses, Sam turned again until he was lying on his stomach, tears falling freely as the painkillers took effect, and he slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Sam was woken up by hands combing through his feathers. Before he was even fully conscious, he jerked back, trying to scramble away from the potential threat. He ended up with his back pressed against the wall and his wings curled tight against his body.

Only then he was aware of a shocked looking Lucifer sitting on the floor; his hands were still hovering in midair and it took a moment for Sam to realize that it had been Lucifer who had touched his wings.

"Don't ever touch me again," Sam snarled at him, primal need to make himself feel anything else than weak overriding any fear he had of antagonizing Lucifer.

The angel seemed something like hurt for a moment, his own wings tight against his body in a defensive gesture. He turned his hands so they were palms up in an angelic peace offering that surprised Sam a lot. He wondered not for the first time what Lucifer's agenda was, but he guessed he would only find that one out over time.

"I was merely cleaning your wings and changing the salve and bandages," Lucifer told him, his voice not quite as cold as it usually was, which surprised Sam more than he let on; he really should get used to never being sure what Lucifer was actually doing.

"Why?" Sam demanded to know, though his wings relaxed slightly as he instinctively understood that there was no current threat coming from Lucifer.

"You're hurt and you can't do that properly on your own."

Lucifer sounded like Sam was stupid, like those facts were clear and easy to ses and understand for everyone, though Sam still felt like he ended up in a parallel world. For a moment he wanted to keep poking at Lucifer's reasons, but the other angel had made it fairly clear to begin with that he didn't like people prying.

And there was one thing he was right about: Sam couldn't do the cleaning himself, he would need help and as nice as Castiel had been, he really didn't want to run to him every day.

He hesitated a moment before laying back down, moving carefully because his whole body still felt like someone had run him over with a truck. Slowly, he extended his left wing until it was draped in Lucifer's lap again. He wasn't able to say the words, couldn't ask for help with the memories of the night still vivid in his mind.

When it had mattered he had been so weak, too weak to defend himself, and it hadn't mattered how hard he tried he hadn't been able to get free, he hadn't even done any damage, how pathetic was he?

But thankfully Lucifer seemed to understand the words Sam didn't even dare form in his head and without saying anything, he started to comb through the remaining feathers once more, working them loose and massaging oil into them, before he went to the end of Sam's wings where now only angry, sore flesh was left.

Lucifer massaged those bald parts as well, applying the salve with more care than Sam had thought he was capable of. When he rewrapped the wing Sam was nearly sorry, the treatment had him relaxed and distracted from what was going on around him and more importantly in his own head.

It had been a long time since someone touched him with so much care, like he was something precious that could break at any given moment. It should feel patronizing, but it just felt nice.

"Turn around," Lucifer rumbled in a voice that made shudders run down Sam's spine, and he obeyed, resting on his back to extend his right wing to Lucifer.

With that wing Lucifer took even greater care, examining the wound for any kind of infection, rubbing oil into his wings, grooming them thoroughly, before he moved on and once more applied salve and rewraped the wing.

When Lucifer was done Sam felt like a boneless heap, he could stay here forever and despite the pain, he felt better than he hasd for a long time, simply because someone took care of his wings like that. He would be embarrassed if he didn't feel so content right now.

Only his stomach seemed to have a different opinion on the matter because it chose that moment to grumble loudly for the entire world to hear.

"There is food next to your bed," Lucifer commented, as he got up to clean the room, another weird gesture that Sam didn't understand. Why was Lucifer being so... nice?

His stomach didn't seem to agree with his soul searching, or rather with his soul searching for Lucifer, because it growled again and Sam decided that he could contemplate his roommate later, after he had enough food in his stomach to stop the shaking and the dull throbbing in his head, though that could also be from the beating he took.

There were several sandwiches in the bag and Sam devoured all of them with more appetite than he really felt. Of course he was hungry, but at the same time he still felt like throwing up was a valid point on his plan for the rest of the day.

Sam was tempted to talk to Lucifer again, but the angel was silent and had his wings drawn to his body in a way that suggested to Sam that he didn't want to talk to anyone, least of all Sam.

For a moment Sam contemplated getting into the shower and getting himself clean, but he hurt so fucking much all over and not getting his wings wet would be close to impossible, which would fuck up the first proper grooming Sam had ever experienced.

Instead, he turned off his bedside lamp and gently lowered himself down; every muscle in his body protesting against the movement, he pulled up the covers until he could hide under them, wishing the world would just forget about him.

He doubted he would sleep any time soon with the thrumming pain in his body and the way he could already feel his wings starting to ache again despite the gentleness with which Lucifer had treated them.

“You did not take your medicine.” Lucifer's voice was stern and worried at the same time, though Sam still had no idea why Lucifer would worry about him.

“Why do you care?” Sam grumbled, his mood swinging from a bit in pain but content to grumpy in a matter of seconds.

It wasn't exactly that Lucifer had given him any reason to distrust him, but Lucifer was an angel and angels didn't do nice, at least not when it came to people like him. They ripped out his feathers and put knives in his wings and that was only if they had a nice day.

And all this cold shoulder mixed with caring was plain confusing. Sam didn't know how to deal with it because he didn't understand. Normally angels had their set patterns around him; best case scenario they ignored him, worst case, they didn't.

This, whatever it was, wasn't part of how things were supposed to be. It wasn't that Sam wanted to be harassed, but in the giant clusterfuck that was his life, he needed some stability. Getting out of bed every day not knowing if his roommate would finally turn on him wasn't doing wonders for Sam's nerves.

Lucifer was nice now, well nice for an angel, but how the hell should Sam know that it wasn't just a plan to get into his head before hurting him even more? He didn't and Lucifer... Lucifer was just so fucking confusing it drove Sam crazy.

Every day he just waited for Lucifer to do something like Raphael and his gang had done. He just wished Lucifer would get it done with, then at least he wouldn't have to worry every day.

“No one is ever going to die again on my watch.”

Sam slowly moved around so he could take a look at Lucifer. The angel had his wings tight against his back, trying not to convey any emotion, but the stiffness alone told Sam that this was something deeply personal for his roommate since normally he looked relaxed no matter what was going on.

“Dude, I'm not gonna die; seriously, it isn't that bad.”

It was hard not to yelp when Lucifer's wings flashed out, threateningly raised over his head like he was ready to attack Sam. For a moment the halfbreed thought that this was it, that now – finally – Lucifer would show who he really was, but instead of attacking, the angel thrust three pills in Sam's hands.

“It is bad enough and I will not permit you to make it worse by refusing your medicine.” He took a step forward, looking more intimidating than any other angel that had ever threatened Sam, and at the same time less ready to attack him. “Take. Your. Pills.”

With one look that confirmed that those were indeed two painkillers and one antibiotic, Sam grabbed the water bottle and hurriedly gulped the pills down. He wasn't really sure if he was frightened or not, but whatever the hell it was, he was even more confused than before.

Lucifer just didn't make sense, what did he mean about the dying and why the hell did he care if Sam was injured badly or not? This angel just didn't make any sense, he wouldn't behave like he was supposed to.

Without a further word Sam turned around again, his back to Lucifer – and no, he wasn't sulking. Well, maybe he was sulking a bit.

Sam jumped when he felt a hand on his wing, all his muscles tensing, ready to fight off what had to be Lucifer finally making his move. But to Sam's surprise he just felt the bed dip before his wings were gently arranged over Lucifer's legs.

He felt the angel grooming his wings again, though it was a different kind of grooming; this one wasn't clinical and intended to clean him, but instead it was a soothing gesture. Something you did with family or good friends – or so Sam had read.

When he realized that this was the first time someone had touched him like this since he hit puberty, Sam really felt like crying. But he forced himself not to, couldn't show that much weakness in front of an angel that surely had an ulterior motive.

“Just go to sleep, Sam.”

And despite his better judgment, despite everything he had grown up with, Sam did as he was told. The gentle touch of fingers on his feathers drained tension from his body he didn't even know he had, relaxing him completely until he felt like a boneless heap. Sam drifted to sleep feeling happy, warm and protected. He blamed it all on the painkillers, but maybe, just maybe, it had something to do with the hands on his wings.


	5. Chapter 4

The blaring of his alarm woke Sam up the next morning and despite sleeping more than enough, he felt as tired as he usually did after a week of barely catching any sleep. Still, he knew that he had to get up today; missing more than one day of classes simply wasn't an option.

He took a look at the clock and sighed, rubbing his eyes and forcing himself out of bed, before stumbling into the shower. He took longer than usual, but he had enough time to enjoy the warm water on his skin.

Lucifer was out, as usual, so Sam didn't need to worry that he would want to shower afterwards and complain about the lack of warm water. Not that Lucifer ever complained, but that only made it scarier.

Not getting his wings wet was hard, but he managed and once he emerged from the shower he settled onto the far more difficult task of rewrapping his wings, that was until he found a note on his desk, one he had overlooked when he had shut down his alarm.

'Took care of your wings. Don't be late. ~Lucifer

For a moment, Sam just stared at the note. How the hell had Lucifer managed that without Sam waking up was beyond his understanding, but other than that, he couldn't say he was anything but grateful.

Though it was creepy that Lucifer did stuff like this, especially because it was Lucifer, the most scary and antisocial angel Sam had ever met.

One look at his clock confirmed, though, that by now he was indeed running late and he pushed his worries to the back of his mind while he threw in his pills and decided that he could make sense of all of this later.

**~*~**

Sam was beyond pissed when the day was over. Every angel he had seen had smirked knowingly – or at least it had seemed to him like this – and the taunts and comments had just hurt more.

The other humans hadn't been much better; sure most of them hadn't reacted with hate but curiosity wasn't that much better. Sam could practically physically feel their looks on his wings, how they wondered what happened and what he did to deserve this, how he was ugly and different and would never fit in.

At least this was what they were thinking in his mind. He didn’t care that most of them were genuinely worried, especially his friends. He was just sick of the attention, of standing out.

As soon as he entered his room, he noticed that Lucifer was there, sitting at his desk like things were normal, were alright. Sam wanted to punch him, but that wouldn't be alright. In fact, that would make him not much better than Uriel, Zachariah or Raphael.

His wings flared out in anger and aggressiveness even though he couldn't really attack anyone unprovoked, that just wasn't him. Lucifer just looked at him for a moment, before turning back around like Sam didn't matter because Sam wasn't even a possible threat.

Which was true – of course – but that didn't help at all with Sam's anger. For a moment he considered stalking out of the room again, but outside were a lot more people that he had to deal with and the action itself would be a little to childish even for Sam in his agitated state.

With a deep sigh Sam let himself fall down onto his bed, his backpack flung carelessly into a corner of the room. He rested his head in his hands, tiredly rubbing his eyes. Sometimes he wondered why the hell he didn't just leave to live a life in the mountains instead of putting up with all the hate every day.

But those were his weaker moments and he rarely allowed himself to even finish those thoughts, always ashamed once they had escaped the dark part where he kept all his hidden fears and self doubts.

He still had homework to do and as much as he just wanted to wallow in self pity that would be a weakness too and he couldn't be weak, couldn't allow himself even to think about the need to be held, not when he hadn't been strong enough when it mattered.

Sam silently sat down at his desk, pulling out his books, and started working, once more regretting that he had ever decided to study law.

**~*~**

Sam's wound healed good, his visit with Castiel confirmed that, and he had Lucifer to thank for that. The angel still tended to his wounds and the ripped out feathers, apparently liking it best when Sam was asleep and couldn't actually be aware of what Lucifer was doing.

His paranoia and distrust had changed into something that could only be called appreciation. He wouldn't have been able to properly care for them if it hadn't been for Lucifer.

But that didn't mean that he wasn't still waiting for Lucifer to snap and show his real face. There had to be something else there, some ulterior motive to all his actions.

Sam knew it was stupid that his thoughts circled around those thoughts over and over again, but he couldn't help it. Despite the intimate act of cleaning Sam's wings, Sam still jumped whenever Lucifer came too close, knowing that it was unfair if he was being honest.

Lucifer hadn't given him any reason not to trust him; well, except for the fact that he was a bastard and seemed to treat most people like crap, but Sam's instincts wouldn't let him be anyone else but another person out to hurt Sam.

Sometimes Sam wanted to reciprocate and groom Lucifer, too, but he never dared to ask and simply touching the angel's wings would probably bring him into the hospital. While Lucifer never seemed to have any problem with touching Sam, Sam was sure it wouldn't be appreciated if he returned the attention.

What made the urge to return the grooming strongest was the way Lucifer sat by his bed every night until Sam had fallen asleep, gently touching his wings.

It should have been creepy, but really it wasn't, it just felt amazing. Which somehow made it so much worse.

Sam had never known he had longed for someone who touched him like that before Lucifer had started it and now he never wanted it to stop, though he knew it was wrong because it was going against all of his instincts and just couldn't end well.

His friends were already teasing him about how he and Lucifer were meant for each other. Well, or rather Jo was teasing and Ash was telling him how he really didn't want to know anything about Sam's epic gay love story.

Only there wasn't any love story; it was a simple act of... whatever. To prove to himself and especially to Jo that there really wasn't anything there, he asked out Jessica, the cute girl from his history course.

The first few dates were nice and though Sam still feel asleep to Lucifer gently grooming him every night he started to really like Jessica. Nothing had happened yet; Sam told himself it was mostly because he was old fashioned and wanted to get to know people before fucking.

Which couldn't explain why he avoided Jessica touching his wings whenever she brought it up. It wasn't that he had anything against Jessica touching his wings, it was just not the right moment. It never was, no matter how often she brought it up.

Sam told her – and himself – that he was just private when it came to his wings, but when they were finally alone in Jessica's dorm-room and Jess finally, gently stroked over his wings, it felt so wrong Sam had to fight hard not to just shove her away.

That evening he told her they couldn't see each other again. He gave her the whole 'It's not you, it's me'-speech and though she seemed gracious about it, Sam couldn't ignore the hurt in her eyes. He wondered if she knew, or thought she knew, like Jo did.

Jo, who kept telling him to make a move at Lucifer, ignoring how ridiculous it was, because Lucifer was an angel and Sam wasn't even human. He was something in between and he had been told over and over again that he was wrong, that he was an abomination.

For angels, he was nothing but an ugly thing that shouldn't exist. He could never be a potential mate for anyone and though he saw himself as human and didn't even want an angelic mate, it hurt on a level that humans just didn't understand.

Even though angels didn't show it outside, they were very social beings. Family and group dynamics were so much stronger than in human families and being accepted, being seen as something of value, was something all angels needed.

Sam wasn't an angel, but of course he had gotten that piece of instinct, too, the one that made him hurt all over when he let it because he would never be accepted by the other angels. He would never be a potential mate or even a potential friend, someone you could trust in.

He was wrong. He would always be wrong. And as much as told himself he was just human, he didn't have anything in common with angels, but the stupid wings still hurt.

He buried it deep inside, not willing to accept that he wished for approval he could never have.

There was something of both worlds inside of Sam; he mixed instincts and needs of angels and humans, but whatever he did was not enough. Sam had parts of both worlds, but only one of them came even close to accepting him.

Humans found crossbreeds interesting and fascinating, but still there was some mistrust against him; he was a curiosity and no matter what, there was always this invisible barrier between him and other humans. Of course there were exceptions like Jo, Ash and Jessica, but they were too few.

Something that no one was ready to acknowledge was that the suicide rate under crossbreeds in college wasn't only so high because of the bullying, but also because they didn't feel like they would fit in.

Sam knew how dangerous those thoughts were; that was why he avoided thinking them. He didn't want to die. He wasn't even that unhappy and he would learn to live with the longing until he one day found a mate of his own, no matter if human or angel.

In times like this Sam wished his mother was still alive so that he had someone to talk to, someone that knew the same feelings.


	6. Chapter 5

He felt nearly as miserable as after the day on which he had been attacked. Breaking it off with Jessica had been hard. He really liked her, she was a nice girl and only because his stupid wings wouldn't allow her to touch them, he couldn't try and find someone to be happy with.

When he stormed into his room he found Lucifer sprawled out and asleep – on Sam's bed. That bastard had no idea of personal space, but really? For a moment Sam just wanted to wake him up, or even better simply kick him out of bed, but when he stepped closer, he took one look at Lucifer's peaceful face and just couldn't do it.

The edge and the cold was gone from Lucifer's face, the scowl replaced by something that could even be described as being close to a smile. Sam should just wake him and prove all of Jo's talking wrong once and for all, no matter how peaceful he looked.

But instead of doing the right thing, his hands edged towards Lucifer's wings. He slowly touched the black feathers, stroking along the soft edges of the wing. They were soft, much softer than his own had been before Lucifer had started to take care of them, and Sam could just admire how they felt under his palm.

He had never touched anyone’s wings but his own and the sensation was hard to grasp. It was more than just touching feathers, at least for him, and didn't that make him even more of a freak?

Carefully, he let his fingers skim through the soft feathers beneath his hands. They were softer than silk and when he buried his fingers deeper, he could feel the soft down between his fingertips. He wanted to lose himself in that feeling, wanted to bury himself in the softness of those wings and forget about all the awful things around him.

Touching someone's wings was deeply personal and Sam wished that the first time he was doing this didn't happen while the other person was asleep. He tried not to think about how he was probably violating Lucifer's trust or at least the truce they had.

It felt too amazing to stop now; it was likely that he would never get to touch anyone's wings again unless he ended up having children and even then it would be different.

Sam continued to pet through the feathers, trying for something close to what Lucifer did with him every evening. He felt clumsy and stupid, but at the same time the feeling of feathers gliding through his hands made a warm glow spread through his chest.

Suddenly there was the beeping of an alarm and before Sam could pull back and act like nothing had happened Lucifer had opened his eyes and was staring at him. Sam still had his hand spread out on top of Lucifer's wing, staring back like a deer caught in the headlight.

But the attack or at least the anger never came; instead, Lucifer simply eased into a sitting position, his wings as still as possible. He kept staring at Sam and Sam kept staring back, at a loss for what to say.

“I need to change your bandages,” Lucifer finally said, as if this wasn't any different from a normal evening.

The whole evening both of them acted like nothing had happened, though deep down they knew that things were changing and they would have to face those changes sooner or later. Right now though, they were happy in denial.

When Sam went to bed Lucifer sat down next to him like he had done every night since the attack. He pillowed Sam's wings in his lap and his fingers carded through them, easing Sam to sleep. Sam had nearly succumbed to the need to sleep when he felt something resting down on top of him.

He reached out and felt his fingers bury themselves in the same soft feathers he had touched earlier. Sam sighed softly and a content smile spread over his face as his hand rested in the wing Lucifer had stretched over him like a blanket.

And though he knew things weren't alright, Sam allowed himself to pretend just for this night.


	7. Chapter 6

As the days went on, they kept ignoring the changes in their behavior. And really they weren't obvious unless you knew what to look for. Lucifer was still aloof and barely spared Sam a glance even when it was just the two of them in their room. Sam still avoided contact with every angel, even though he now occasionally sat within touching range of Lucifer, which the angel allowed even though he never let anyone else close.

In their little room, things had changed a lot though; Lucifer started touching Sam's wings even when he wasn't changing the bandages or lulling Sam to sleep with the soft touches.

He started to tug on the edge of Sam's wings when he wanted Sam's attention, gently stroked over them when Sam found himself frustrated and flustered with an assignment, until Sam could relax again. It was like suddenly their wings were part of their every day interaction, where before they had tried as hard as possible not to ever let the other one come in contact with them.

It was harder for Sam to start and touch Lucifer's wings; he still felt like an intruder. But he liked it, the feeling of soft feather's skimming through his fingers when he decided that Lucifer had studied long enough and should come to sleep.

They didn't sleep in the same bed, but they might as well have been. Their sleeping rhythms had synchronized until every night Lucifer lulled Sam to sleep and only then went to sleep himself. Going to sleep with Lucifer's wings as a blanket and his hands buried in them brought Sam a peaceful and dreamless sleep, though every time he woke up alone in the morning he felt a yearning for the wonderful sensation.

Sam's wings healed well; Castiel even complimented him on the great care he was taking of them while Crowley just gave Sam suspicious looks.

Sam had been avoiding his professor – as much as that was possible when you saw someone on a regular basis. He was pretty sure that Crowley picked up on whatever was going on between him and Lucifer because Crowley just noticed everything.

And as thankful as Sam was for his help and how he had banished Uriel, Zachariah and Raphael from his classes, he was far from ready to discuss this thing between him and Lucifer.

Thankfully, he didn't need to ask for further help from the influential professor. He managed to avoid his tormentors after that fateful night. The only time he ever saw them was in the halls and then he ducked away quickly, having spent an entire day memorizing a map of the campus so he would always know where to go when he was confronted with them – he didn't allow himself to use the word flee.

They seemed to take Crowley's threat seriously or maybe they were just planning how to get rid of him once and for all. Sam didn't really care either way, as long as it meant they would leave him alone for now.

Who didn't leave him alone, though he wasn't sure if he was happy about it or not, were Jo and Ash, despite Sam's grumpiness and his constant bitching since the attack.

He had let his anger out on them because, as stupid as it sounded, those were the only people that he knew wouldn't try and beat the crap out of him. God his life was really pathetic. But instead of distancing themselves from him, Jo and Ash had bitched right back and whenever Sam became too much of an asshole, they had told him where to shove it.

After venting on his friends, Sam felt like crap every time, but his emotions were in a jumble and he just couldn't get them under control. The one moment everything was fine and the next he wanted to hit something or crawl up in a corner and die. He felt like a woman with PMS.

At least Lucifer didn't behave much better; he had mood swings that were worse than Sam's, though they were more subtle. While Sam just bitched at everyone and everything while at the next moment feeling like professing his undying love, Lucifer just stayed the same, at least to everyone but Sam.

As Sam had found out the hard way, when Lucifer kept close to him, he was usually in a bad mood. He got bitchy and territorial and snarled at anyone who got too close to Sam and at Sam himself. He never let Sam touch his wings, though, when he was like this.

On his normal days he had a reasonable distance when they were together and didn't seem to care where Sam walked or whom he brushed up against, though angels seemed to avoid touching him by now, for whatever reason.

When Lucifer had a good day he kept close to Sam, too, which was weird, but Sam had learned to live with it. On those very rare days, he would practically shove his wings into Sam's face until he touched them, at least as much as Lucifer did something like this. He also tended to play with Sam's feathers, something Sam wasn't keen to point out, because he had the feeling Lucifer would be pissed at himself or possibly both of them.

Though the angel's behavior got on Sam's nerves, it was good to know that he wasn't the only one that was affected by the changes in their whatever-it-was-they-had.

Sam had no idea how to name whatever there was between Lucifer and him. Wingcare was something very personal; you did it with family or close friends, or – of course – love interests and partners.

Sam fit into none of those categories, though he hoped there was a friendship developing between them. He had no idea why he let Lucifer touch his wings or touched the angel’s. When his wings had been healing, he had had an excuse, but the nightly grooming now was different and his wings were healed, anyway.

Now it was more about tender care, especially since Lucifer draped his wings over Sam like he wanted to protect him. It made no sense whatsoever, but Sam didn't want to question it too much.

He liked this new arrangement, he had never been able to share his wings with anyone, his mother had died too early and he was the only one in his family with wings.

And while his family had tried, they had stopped when Sam had gone into puberty, because apparently a boy at the age of thirteen shouldn't enjoy intimate time with his male family members. It had to be some weird male Winchester thing.

Sam had hated it; angels groomed their children throughout their life; until there was a partner, it was looked on as normal to have a family member do the Wingcare. But John and Dean had wanted to make him strong and independent.

Well, apparently it hadn't worked all that well – though still too well for his father's tastes, who wanted to have his son close by for whatever reason. Sam loved his family, but sometimes he wished he had been born into a different one, just like he sometimes wished he would have been born an angel instead of a half-breed so his wings would be something to be proud of and not to despise.


	8. Chapter 7

“We are going for a flight.”

Lucifer sounded as matter of fact as if he had announced what the weather was outside. Sam looked up from the books he had lying all over his bed. He had an exam in a few days and he was studying wherever he was, whatever he was doing. Right now he was trying to combine taking a nap with studying.

His books weren't the best pillow, though, and reading when lying on your books was hard, so mostly he was just studying and ignoring his body’s need for sleep.

“What?” he drawled, his voice sick with the need for sleep.

“You don't exercise your wings enough. We are going for a flight.”

For a moment Sam wanted to protest, but he had seen that look on Lucifer’s face before. If he refused now, the angel would make his life hell until he gave in. And Sam really didn't want to have to be weary of Lucifer every step of the way so close to the exams.

The only time this had happened before had been when Sam had refused to use the wing conditioner Lucifer had gotten him. Lucifer had made his life hell in all the little ways. He had stopped bringing food for them both when he went out, he had stopped taking Sam's laundry, and he had snapped and snarled at Sam whenever Sam came too close to him.

What had been the worst part had been Lucifer not allowing Sam anywhere close to his wings and not even looking twice at Sam's. Sam had gotten so used to the attention Lucifer lavished onto his wings that, when it stopped, he realized that he felt twitchy and couldn't sleep anymore.

They had developed a routine and hadn't known how much he relied on it until Lucifer had been pissed and had disrupted it. He really didn't want to have that again; he needed his life to work right now if he wanted to survive that stupid exam.

“Fine,” he growled, before getting up and shoving his books away.

Lucifer looked smug when Sam stood before him in his washed out sweater and his baggy leggings, looking for all the world like he fell right out of bed, which was actually true.

Sam was about to bitch at Lucifer or say something witty to piss the angel off – which would have been hard because Lucifer never showed when he was pissed – when suddenly his black wings swooped forward and curved around Sam. The tips pressed against his wing joints in a soothing gesture Sam had never felt before.

He was too shocked to say anything, but he knew enough about wing interaction to know that this was deeply intimate, a gesture to offer protection and a safe haven.

Gently, Lucifer pulled Sam closer with his wings until they were nearly touching, before his wings suddenly pulled back like he had been burned.

“Follow me,” he growled and Sam wondered how long he would get the silent treatment for the intimate moment Lucifer had initiated.

Still, he did what Lucifer had told him to without protest, following the angel when he left the room, storming down the corridor with long strokes. He acted like he owned this place, but so far no one had dared to call him on it; Lucifer was far too scary.

As soon as they were outside Lucifer stretched his impressive wings and took off, shooting into the sky with strong strokes. For a moment Sam just stood there watching him, awed by the raw power in his movement, but then Lucifer swooped down again, passing by just centimeters over his head, reminding Sam that he was supposed to fly too.

Sam hesitated a moment before stretching his wings as well, shaking them a bit to loosen his muscles. Taking off was the hard part, at least for him; as soon as he was in the air, he could find winds, but getting his body off the ground just didn't seem like a natural thing to him.

He probably just lacked practice, but there had never been anyone who wanted to go on a flight with him. Half-breeds were a lot more common these days than they used to be, but Sam had been the only one in their little town.

Angels normally never went on a flight with a half-breed even though in the air it didn't matter if your blood was pure or not. With a bit of practice Sam could be as good as many other angels were.

Sam jumped in the air, his wings beating with strong strokes and even though for a moment he felt like he was about to fall down again, he managed to ascend over the trees, following Lucifer into the clear evening sky.

The sun was just setting, bathing the sky in golden light. Sam ascended, following Lucifer higher into the windy air. Despite his aversion to flying, he felt himself relaxing as he found a strong wind to ride on, letting his instincts guide the way.

He had been so absorbed in going with the wind and gliding over the world that lay small and insignificant below him that he yelped in surprise when he suddenly felt Lucifer's wings brushing over his own, as the angel flew only centimeters above him.

Without thinking Sam broke out towards the ground, swooping down in an elegant glide that brought him first down and then back on another current.

Lucifer followed him, his bigger wings making it easy to keep up with Sam. He shot down, nearly hitting Sam, but averting the collision in the last moment, though his hand playfully yanked on Sam's foot.

When he felt the hand on his foot, Sam raised his wings to an abrupt halt, turning around in the air and nearly crashing into Lucifer.

He gave the angel a light shove to the chest before taking off with strong strides, feeling the air rush by around him. He couldn't hear anything but the sound of the wind as he cut through the air, forcing himself to go faster and faster.

Sam felt someone getting closer and made a break to the left, only to collide with a solid form. For a moment he lost his flight and only two strong arms wrapping around him held him up in the air and stopped him from crashing to the ground.

He looked up, finding Lucifer awfully close. The angel had an intense expression on his face, though for a moment Sam was sure he saw a half smile on his face.

It took a moment for him to realize the strong beat of Lucifer wings as the angel held both of them in the air. It didn't seem to cost him much strength, which surprised Sam since he wasn't really light. But though he could feel the muscles in his arms bulging, Lucifer looked as stoic as ever.

For a moment Sam just looked at Lucifer, feeling the warmth of the other body seep through his clothes. Then he remembered that he wasn't supposed to hug anyone midair or in general hug Lucifer and enjoy it.

So reluctantly he let go, drifting away from the angel with slow beating wings. The tender moment ended when Lucifer surged forward and tapped Sam’s forehead, before taking off with an easiness Sam could only envy.

Sam followed him, trying uselessly to catch up with Lucifer, who always managed to stay just an arm’s length ahead, leading Sam down towards the ground again, where they passed through trees and Sam had to work hard to avoid crashing into branches and ending up as an embarrassing heap on the floor.

He managed fairly well until someone rammed him, throwing him against a tree in mid-flight. A high keen escaped him as he hit the trees, his newly healed wings flailing, trying to find purchase while he fell through branches and leaves.

Sam landed on the ground with a thud and pain shooting throughout his whole body. For a moment he just kept lying there, trying to will the pain away so he could find out if he had broken anything during the fall.

Before he could find enough will power to move, a shadow fell on him; looking up, he wanted to snap at Lucifer for doing something so stupid and risking serious injuries on Sam's part. But when his eyes focused on the person in front of him, he froze.

“I'm awfully sorry for that,” Zachariah sneered, the grin on his face showing just how sorry he was.

Ignorant of the pain in his body and fueled by adrenaline, Sam scrambled to his feet, his wings protectively folded behind his body, hopefully hiding the faint tremble that the memory of their last meeting brought.

As subtle as he could, Sam tried to look around and see if Zachariah was alone or with Raphael and Uriel. He only spared a fleeting thought for Lucifer, pretty sure that the angel was already on his way home, happy to leave Sam to whatever his fate was going to be.

“Don't worry, it's just you and me today, Sammy.”

Sam snarled in reaction to his childhood nickname being used by this monster, but that just seemed to amuse Zachariah more, if the leer on his face was anything to go by.

“Sam, Sam, Sam. You should have known better than to think you could be safe,” Zachariah told him lazily, while sauntering closer.

Instinct made Sam inch backwards, even though he wanted to stand his ground firmly, but survival was pretty much more important than his pride. And survival entitled him to stay out of Zachariah's reach, not that the chances were all that good.

“We are always gonna get you. You should just leave, this is no place for something like you and if you just go forever, we might just let you leave alive.”

Sam snorted; why did the angels always believe that they had the right to everything? Next to their prejudice this was probably their most prominent feature – at least in Sam's eyes – they always believed they knew the answer to everything.

“The last time I checked you didn't own this place,” Sam answered provocatively, trying his best to be able to look at himself in the mirror tomorrow, while at the same time making sure that he would be able to look in the mirror tomorrow.

“Then you didn't check very carefully, abomination.” Zachariah came closer, forcing Sam to inch back further, his wings already bumping against the tree.

“Which doesn't surprise me, really, you can't even do what you're told and apparently your intelligence isn't even enough to run when you had the luck to live for a few more miserable days. I don't need the others, you and me, we're gonna have so much fun, Sammy.”

Zachariah's grin was frightening. There was nothing mad in it; it was nearly kind like Zachariah believed what he was going to do was right. That just scared Sam all the more. This wasn't just a madman, this was a madman who believed he was carrying out some divine plan.

“First, I'm going to get rid of all those ugly feathers, then I think it's time that you lost your...”

The angel stopped mid sentence, his posture suddenly going rigid. Sam, who had looked for a way out and had only paid attention if Zachariah was moving, turned his full attention back to the angel.

“Don't you want to finish that sentence for me?”

The words were purred dangerously in a voice Sam knew far too well. Lucifer was standing right behind Zachariah, one hand in the angel’s hair, pulling his head back, while the other held a big knife against Zachariah's throat.

“It is always the same with you lot. You act like you own the place as long as there is someone weaker, but as soon as you’ve found your match, you want to run crying to your mommy.”

Lucifer pressed the knife further against the exposed throat, drawing blood, while his eyes focused on Sam, who was just standing pressed against the tree, too astonished to say anything.

“What do you want?” Zachariah croaked, his voice shaking, and even though Sam knew he shouldn't be delighted by the angel’s fear he was.

“What do I want?” Lucifer purred dangerously, cruel amusement in his voice. “Let me think about that, little bird.”

He pulled Zachariah's head back further, the angel straining to keep his balance and not cut himself open on the knife that was still holding him in place. Lucifer turned his head slightly, sniffing at Zachariah, his grin only growing at whatever it was he smelled.

“It's just me and you here, Zach, and I want to have some fun.”

The hand that had been holding Zachariah's head was suddenly gone and a second later the angel was screaming. Sam flinched at the piercing sound, only realizing what had happened when Lucifer raised his fist and opened it, letting feathers fly to the floor.

Sam's roommate looked far too cheerful at what he was doing, his whole face lit up as he watched the feathers fall, like a child would look at the first snow.

“You are going to bleed so pretty.”

Zachariah's eyes weren't the only ones that widened in shock when the knife left the throat only to end up deep in Zachariah's right wing, the angel falling over in the pain that Lucifer caused as he forced his knife to cut through muscles and flesh.

The black winged angel pulled the knife from the wing, looking at it with astonishment as the setting sun made the blood shine even more intense.

“Really pretty,” Lucifer repeated, kneeling down next to the other angel and stroking through his wings, until suddenly he ripped out a bunch of feathers.

Again the white-winged angel on the ground screamed and Sam, ripped from his shock, stormed forward, gripping Lucifer's arm.

“Stop it,” he snapped, frantically trying to stop his roommate from getting his knife back into the wing.

Lucifer looked at him like Sam had gone crazy, his head tilted slightly to the side and a frown on his usually expressionless face.

“Why should I stop? I just started and he was going to hurt you.”

The way Lucifer spoke was probably the scariest part of the whole situation. It was the same kind of conviction that his way was right that Zachariah had displayed earlier. Just like his attacker, Lucifer believed violence to be a legitimate answer.

“I don't want you to hurt him for me. Let's just go, Luc, please?”

Sam hadn't even realized that he had called Lucifer by the short form of his name until he saw the angel's whole face lighten up with affection. He was so taken aback by it that he didn't even stop Lucifer from forcing the knife into the wing one last time.

“If you ever come after Samuel again, there will be no mercy for you. I will find you and I will make you suffer until the only thing you wish for is death. But you won't get it; I will keep you alive and make sure that you will suffer for days, maybe weeks. Don't try to go after Sam and don't think you can do anything against me.”

Coming from anyone else that threat would have sounded overblown and stupid, but the way Lucifer spoke, nearly whispering into Zachariah's ear, made Sam believe him. He wasn't sure if he should be thankful that he meant so much to someone or horrified at the realization how far Lucifer was ready to go without remorse.

Lucifer turned around again after cleaning his knife on Zachariah's clothes and pushing it back into its hilt. His expression was tender and worried and he reached out for Sam both with a hand and his wing.

“Sure, Sammy. Let's go,” he told him, grabbing his hand and curling a wing protectively around him, as if to shield him from the world.

Sam didn't know what to feel, but he decided to leave all the complicated moral decision until tomorrow and just allow himself to feel loved, cared for and protected, even if it was by a psychopath. Right now all that mattered was the hand holding his and the wing protectively curved around his body, which alone was more than Sam had ever dared to hope for.


	9. Chapter 8

Thankfully, no one dared to speak to them on their way back, though they got a few weird looks. Sam just hoped the bloodstains on Lucifer's hands weren't obvious because, if anyone noticed and decided to say something, they would be in deep trouble.

All thoughts of impending jail time fled his mind when they entered their room and Lucifer pressed him against the closed door, his whole body lined up against Sam's, holding him in place. For a moment Sam forgot how to breathe, sure that now Lucifer would attack, him but all the angel did was bury his face in the crook of Sam's neck.

Sam hesitated, but Lucifer didn't seem to mind, winding his arms around him and burying his hands in the joints of Sam's wings. Slowly, unsure of what he was doing, Sam raised his arms too, gently resting them on Lucifer's hips.

A pleased sound left Lucifer's lips and he pressed his face further into Sam's neck. It felt weird, but in a good way, maybe a bit too good given how close they were pressed together. Now that he was over the initial shock enough to focus, Sam found it really hard not to let a little moan slip at the breath that was gracing his collarbones.

He knew Lucifer was scenting him for whatever reason. Angels did a lot of things over scent, most of them humans wouldn't even understand. That was how angels knew that Sam wasn't pure, that there was something wrong with him.

They could smell a lot of things, prominent illness, if you were mated or not, if the angel had entered the mating cycle and could get children and all those little things that humans missed, but which were significant for angels.

Sam had always associated being singled out with people smelling him; he got twitchy when he saw anyone trying to catch his scent to the point where he had tried to hide it under tons of deodorant, not that it had worked.

Feeling – or probably rather smelling – Sam's uneasiness, Lucifer burrowed his nose deeper in Sam's neck and held him tighter.

There was a soothing rumble coming from his chest, just as if he was purring, something angels never did with anyone that wasn't a child, in need or someone very, very close. Lucifer's hands gently massaged the points where Sam's wings left his body, careful not to hurt the sensitive parts, but rather work all the tension out that had started to show there.

“Let me take care of you, Sammy,” Lucifer murmured into his neck.

And not allowing himself any doubts, Sam let himself be taken care of for the first time since his Dad had told him he was a man now. He didn't even mind being called Sammy.

**~*~**

He woke up the next morning alone in bed. Sam wasn't really sure if that was a good or a bad thing. He had gone to sleep the night before with his head in Lucifer's lap, the angel's wings as a second blanket and his own being gently groomed by his roommate.

Before they had showered, together, and Sam wouldn't even allow himself to think about what that meant. At that moment he had just wanted to feel the warmth of someone caring for him and Lucifer had been there, all too readily, trying to meet his every need.

It hadn't even been remotely sexual; it had been as if they were brothers for a short moment even though Sam was aware that under a huge mountain of denial there was a certain attraction hidden. He would never dare to act on it, too scared of the refusal and of losing the easy routine he had with Lucifer.

Even though the angel had proven that he was even willing to hurt another angel for him and probably even kill, Sam still waited for him to leave.

Which made it worse that he wasn't in their room anymore; though Sam would never admit that he had any kind of strong feelings for any angel, he had learned often enough that he was something filthy to them.

For a moment he worried that Lucifer might have gone after Zachariah, but then he pushed the thought aside; there was no reason for Lucifer to do so. At least that was what Sam told himself, because even though he tried hard not to, he couldn't stop worrying about the angel.

He wanted to take a shower just to have something to do and keep his mind busy, because thankfully, today was Sunday, even though he wouldn't mind something to keep him busy either. Sam had started to pull his shirt off when he took a deep breath and realized he could still smell Lucifer.

Deep in denial as ever, he began to tell himself that he had just taken a shower in the evening and didn't need another, even though the truth, that he knew very well, was that he just didn't want to stop smelling of Lucifer.

It was pathetic, really. Both how he pined over an angel and how good he had become at lying to himself. He was going to be as good as Dean, which wasn't really anything he could be proud of.

But facing the fact that he might have started to fall for an angel was something Sam couldn't do. It went against all of his believes. Angels were bastards and while Sam never said so he sometimes, after a particularly bad day, just wished that they had all been killed in one of the many wars between angels and humans.

Sam could never hurt anyone if he wasn't forced to, but there was this dark part of him that wanted all of those uptight bastards to suffer and die. After days like yesterday, that part got prominent in Sam's mind and in his darkest hours he had been sure that he would have killed his tormentors if he only had a gun.

Yesterday the dark part had raged against Zachariah, but as long as he was with Lucifer he had felt fine, safe even, which was something he hadn't felt in the presence of any other angel.

Sam tried hard not to think about it too much; he couldn't have started to trust an angel though he knew it was obvious that he had; Lucifer had groomed his wings for weeks now.

Sam still didn't understand why he did it, why he would share something so intimate with someone like Sam. He knew that the angels were wrong, but somewhere along the way he had started to see himself as something tainted, something that shouldn't be.

No one knew about those thoughts, but being told that you are an abomination from the first day of kindergarten didn't just pass by you. For everyone he knew he put on the brave facade, like he couldn't give a shit about what angels thought, but that had never been the truth.

The door to the room opened and in reflexes learned by long years of being bullied, Sam pressed himself against the wall, his wings hidden behind his large body as best as he could. It wasn't a reaction he normally had to someone opening the door to his room, but he had been so deep in thought that reflexes had just taken over.

Lucifer was frozen in the doorway, looking at him with something Sam would have called worry if it had been on the face of anyone else.

“I brought breakfast,” he announced calmly, holding up a plastic bag.

Sam relaxed against the wall, already feeling ridiculous for overreacting like this. Thankfully Lucifer didn't comment, instead just came inside and closed the door behind him. He sat down on Sam's bad with a familiarity that was at the same time comforting and worrying.

He held out a salad and a fork for Sam, who took them with a slight reluctance, not sure if he wanted the intimacy or not. Lucifer seemed oblivious to how uncomfortable Sam felt, taking out a sandwich and getting up to grab himself a plate, before he sat down, even closer to Sam.

Sam had just opened his salad and started to eat when he felt something move next to him. He turned slightly, watching how Lucifer unfurled his left wing and curled it around Sam like humans would put an arm around a person they cared for.

When he felt the wing pressing against his own wings and his back, the tip gently resting against his arm Sam went rigid. He had no idea what he was supposed to do with a gesture like this from Lucifer or any other angel, for that matter.

Turning with concern, Lucifer looked at him and this time Sam couldn't deny the worry he could see on the angel's face.

“Sam? Is there something wrong?” Lucifer asked, his wing tightening around Sam's shoulder like he wanted to protect him.

Of course there was something wrong, the whole way they were acting was wrong. Lucifer wasn't supposed to care for him and Sam wasn't supposed to let him close. Lucifer was supposed to make his life hell and Sam was supposed to hate his guts.

But instead they sat on the same bed, eating food that Lucifer bought for both of them, and Lucifer was acting like he cared. Lucifer was capable of violence. Sam had seen him yesterday. There had been no hesitation or remorse, but he had not once tried to harm Sam and that was driving him crazy.

It probably said a lot about his life so far that kindness from an angel was more unnerving than violence and hate.

“Sam?” Lucifer repeated, his wing tightening around Sam and his other unfurling, too, curving like a shield around the two of them.

“I have to get going, there is... this thing I have to attend,” Sam stuttered, nearly spilling his salad as he scrambled from the bed, ducking under Lucifer's wing.

He needed to get out of here, fast, before all of this got too much and he did something he would regret in the end. Thankfully, he was already clothed; he would probably have stormed out of the room in just his pajamas otherwise.

Grabbing his key, his wallet and his phone, he fled the room, avoiding looking at Lucifer, sure that he couldn't bear whatever emotion was displayed on his face.

Only when he was around the corner and sure that Lucifer wasn't following him, Sam allowed himself to relax a bit and slow down to a pace that didn't draw the attention of everyone around him.

It was a Saturday morning and not many students were out anyway, but Sam didn't want anyone to notice him, least of all the few angels that he saw in the hallway and on the grass outside. He didn't have anywhere to be and if he had the choice, he wouldn't have left his room for the remainder of the weekend, instead burying himself in his books and trying to forget the Friday evening.

But Lucifer's presence wouldn't allow for that; though it had been his absence that had made Sam nervous only minutes before, he couldn't stand being close to him after the loving gesture he had displayed.

Sam wasn't used to a lot of open affection. It wasn't that his family didn't love each other, but both John and Dean were too afraid of what Dean called a chick-flick moment to share more than a few manly hugs, if the situation wouldn't let them avoid it.

Sam had always imagined that his mother had been loving and affectionate, but he had been too young when she died to remember anything about her. He only knew what Dean and his dad had told him and what he had seen in photos.

Sometimes Sam had suspected that there had been more to his mother's death than the house fire that his Dad had told him had killed his mother. He had never been able to put a finger on it, but there had been those looks that Dean and his dad shared whenever they spoke about it – which wasn't often – that had Sam suspecting that there were things that they didn't tell him.

He had never asked too many questions or tried to find out too much himself either, not sure if he wanted to know the truth.

Sighing Sam sat down on a bench between a bunch of trees, far enough away from the walkway that he wouldn't have to be too weary of people seeing and annoying him. Closing his eyes, he tipped his head back and enjoyed the warm autumn sun on his skin.

It was probably one of the last warm days, it had started raining more and more and there was frost everywhere, but Sam looked forward to winter, too, and since it was already mid-November, it meant that he would see his family again soon.

Christmas was a weird occasion in the Winchester house, but Sam really just looked forward to bickering with Dean and fighting with his dad, as weird as that sounded. He hoped it would snow; he loved the snow and even though it made him look silly, he loved to flop it at Dean with his wings, both of them forgetting that they were supposed to be adults for a while.

Thinking about Dean and enjoying the sun on his skin, listening to the rustling of the trees that had lost nearly all of their leaves and feeling the cool wind caressing his skin, distracted him for a while, but in the end his mind inevitably came back to the person that was keeping him on edge for weeks now.

He had to do something about Lucifer, only he didn't know what. Lucifer wasn't hurting him, he wasn't insulting him, he wasn't trying to make his life miserable. Hell, Lucifer was doing his best to do the exact opposite.

Which made it even harder to deal with him because Sam had no idea what was the right way to react. He knew how to handle bullying, but not this.

Sam didn't exactly want it to end; in fact he wanted it to continue badly, but at the same time he felt like it shouldn't be that way.

Opening his eyes and blinking against the sharp sun, Sam lets a heartfelt sigh fall from his lips, before leaning forward, burying his head in his hands and wishing – not for the first time – that he could just step away and start anew somewhere; in fact, he simply wanted to hide.

But he knew that he couldn't and in the end he didn't want to anyway. He might allow himself the weakness of occasionally wishing there was a way out or simply a place where he could hide forever – or at least for a little while – but he was too proud and too strong to ever really consider giving up. Those douches were not going to get the better of him.

With a weary sigh, Sam sat up straight again. It wasn't like he had anywhere to be, but he might as well sit in the library and study if he couldn't get into his room because his roommate was being nice to him.

Thankfully, the library turned out to be empty at this time of the day – it was only 09:30 after all – and Sam was grateful for that. It wasn't like anyone would ever bother him in the library, but right now he didn't want to be in close proximity with anyone.

God, he was getting paranoid and pretty weird.

He was thankful that he wasn't too messed up to lose himself in history and politics. He would have hated if he flunked his exams because of Lucifer being nice to him. It would have been the most ridiculous thing ever happening to him.

It was easy to forget himself in studying other people’s problems, mostly because it stopped him from thinking about them. He had always been better at solving other people's problems and ignoring his own until they came back to not only bite him in the ass, but also throw him down a cliff.

Only his growling stomach told him that he had worked not only without breakfast, but also well past lunchtime and even though he would have just ignored it, the other people that had filled the library since he had first got here had started to give him dirty looks about an hour ago and were probably plotting his murder by now.

Reluctantly, Sam packed up, asking the librarian to hold all the books back for him until he had his lunch break. At first the young student behind the counter was reluctant, but Sam flashed her a smile, put his puppy-dog eyes on full force, made an awkward movement with his wings, and ended up getting what he wanted.

Thankful that he had managed to grab his wallet when he fled the room, Sam made his way to one of the small diners that was close to the campus; he was pretty sure during exam time they had to make a small fortune, thanks to desperate and sleep deprived students.

The diner was packed, even though it was a weekend. But while normally most students were still asleep around this time on weekends, exam time always meant that even those that normally didn't do anything but drink made at least some effort. And given exams started on Monday, they had probably started today and already needed a break from all their hard work.

Getting himself a sandwich, a coffee and a piece of pie in honor of Dean – and pointedly not looking at any of the salads – Sam started hunting for a table or at least someone he knew that he could sit with.

But he seemed to be out of luck since there were no empty tables and also no one that looked familiar to him. Normally not against getting to know new people, Sam didn't feel like he could handle meaningless small talk today or worse, a serious conversation.

He was close to giving up and getting out to look for an empty bench on campus, something he didn't really look forward to since it had turned windy and the sun hid behind dark gray clouds that held the promise of rain.

Letting his eyes swipe through the diner a second time, Sam's eyes locked onto a vaguely familiar head of unruly black hair. Balancing his lunch, Sam made his way through the tables and found one that only had one occupant.

It took him a moment to remember the name, the details of that night made fuzzy by shock and his urge to forget it had ever happened.

“Castiel?”

He had seen the angel only once afterwards, when he had checked if everything was going well with his wings. He had been surprised how well Sam had healed, not that Sam himself had been less surprised, but he at least knew why.

“Samuel,” Castiel greeted him and stared at Sam with those unnerving ice blue eyes.

Sam stood there like an idiot, not sure if he was supposed to sit down or not. He had noticed the way Castiel just seemed to lack any social skills when they had met for the second time, but that didn't really make this any better.

“How are you?” he asked, after a while of dumb staring and uncomfortable silence.

“I'm acceptable. How are you?” Castiel tilted his head, his eyes still fixed on Sam.

“Uh... good. Yeah, yeah, I'm good.” Sam felt a bit uncomfortable at the lie, though he had no idea why. He didn't know Castiel well enough to warrant telling him how he really was. In the end he blamed that god damn unnerving stare.

“Asking you to sit down would be the socially appropriate reaction to our meeting, correct?” Castiel asked, leaving Sam staring at him dumbstruck.

“Only if you want me to sit down,” he replied, after taking a moment to gather his wits.

Castiel nodded like this explained everything before gesturing towards the empty seat on the other side of the table. Even the gesture seemed out of place with the angel. “In that case, I would be pleased for you to share my table.”

“Thanks,” Sam simply replied, sitting down and hoping the rest of this lunch conversation would be less confusing; he could already feel a headache building.

Partly to avoid conversation and partly because he was just plain hungry, Sam started eating, enjoying his sandwich. This place served the best sandwiches Sam knew and the pie was amazing, too, he would have to bring one home for Dean.

The door opened and a cold gush of wind went through the place, making Sam shiver where he sat with his back to the door – something that made him slightly uneasy and had him turning sideways so he could see who was coming and going in the corner of his eye.

“Am I right to assume the situation calls for congratulations or shall I wait until the mating is completed?” Castiel asked, his head tilted again, but for once Sam didn't bother with the stare.

“Mating?” he asked, puzzled, not really sure what Castiel was talking about, but then, that was the default setting when it came to talking to the angel; he wondered how he had ended up with Crowley.

“The claim on you is still new, but if you want to keep it secret, you should consider getting help from a pharmacist; there are several very effective products that can help hide a mating bond that is still forming.”

There was something in Castiel's voice that indicated that he didn't approve of the idea of hiding a mating bond, but Sam couldn't care less about Castiel's opinion right now, his mind had stopped somewhere along the thought of a claim on him.

“Whoa, wait. A claim? A mating bond? What the hell are you talking about?”

Though, even as he asked, his mind supplied him with an image of Lucifer, blanketing him with his wing. He shoved the memory away violently and forced himself to focus on Castiel in front of him. The angel had his head tilted and looked at him like he was trying to understand an especially complicated problem.

“Your mating bond. You have to be aware that you have started to bond with another angel, archangel to be precise; his smell is very dominant.”

Archangel... what the...? Sam had no idea what he was supposed to say, far too busy with the fact that Lucifer's scent was apparently all over him and suggested that they were at the start of a serious relationship.

The scent of a mating bond was made from the combined scents of the two – or more, angels had a broader definition of love – angels involved. So far scientists weren't sure if the chemical reaction happened first and because of that fit the angels were drawn together and the more time they spent together, the stronger the scent got until it was noticeable by everyone, or if the scent started appearing after the angels fell in love and spent time together.

Sam preferred the first theory if he was honest, not that he would ever tell anyone the reason. It sounded a lot like love at first sight and as cheesy as it sounded, who didn't want to have a soulmate somewhere along the road.

But whatever it, was everyone was sure that a mating bond could only be forged if both angels felt drawn to each other. It was unheard of the scent becoming strong enough to be smelled and the angels didn't want to be together.

The thought though that hit Sam the most was that angels mated for life. They fooled around plenty before – though they seldom openly admitted it – but as soon as the scent formed it was as good as a done deal. When it was just faint sometimes couples broke up, but it was painful and rarely happened when there was no outside force – like parents – but when the bond was completed everyone knew better than to interfere.

“Samuel?” Castiel asked, concerned, and Sam got ripped out of his thought process, suddenly aware that he had been staring into nothingness and instead of having a real freak out had one just in his head.

Which was way more appropriate for a diner anyway.

“Samuel?” Castiel repeated, his voice more urgent this time. “Do you feel unwell?”

For a moment Sam just wanted to yell at Castiel. Of course he felt unwell! He had just been told that he had a fucking mating bond, why should he be okay? But he managed to hold himself together. After all, it wasn't Castiel's fault and normally people were overjoyed with that kind of bond. Plus, he didn't need a scene like this, everyone would finally find out what a freak he was.

“Yeah...” he managed to croak instead. “Yeah, I'm okay.”

He gestured vaguely towards the door, rising without having touched much of his food.

“I just... gotta go. See you around, Cas.”

Sam practically fled the diner, thankful that he just looked like another student late to something important.

His mind was racing, again and again, replaying what Castiel had said, the fact that he was slowly but surely becoming a mate, that he was having a mate. How was that possible anyway? He was a half-breed, it shouldn't be possible for his own chemical body reactions to produce the pheromones and the molecules needed to form a bond!

Had Lucifer known? Of course he had, he had to have smelled it and the way his behavior had changed over the last few weeks; this was the only explanation. Lucifer was forming a bond with him.

It blew Sam's mind that an angel would willingly form a bond to him. Him. Even he could see how flawed he was, though he decided not to most of the time, instead striving to be the best he could possibly be.

In a split decision, Sam headed back towards the library. There was no way he would get out of this disaster if he didn't know everything about mating and mating bonds there was to know. He wasn't so sure if he even wanted out of this mess, but that was something he really didn't want to think about right now.

Lucifer was an angel. Angels were bad news. He couldn't be mated to one of them, no matter how good he felt when he was around him, how safe. So he had to find a way out, simple as that. Because he was Sam, he was a half-breed – an abomination – and Lucifer was an angel, beautiful and strong and maybe a little bit – or giant bit – psychopathic.


	10. Chapter 10

The woman behind the counter looked at him strangely when he asked her for the best books about angelic mating rituals, the mating process and the bond. She probably thought he was one of them and should know all of that already.

But in the end he got all his books and he got himself a computer, fighting off an older student – he actually just glared at him long enough – to get his hands on it.

First of all Sam needed to find out what Castiel had meant when he had spoken about an archangel. Sam had heard that word, but he had no real idea what it meant; given that he tried to stay away from anything angelic that was no surprise. He knew what he needed to know to avoid them or get them to leave him alone, but he didn't want to know anything more.

If he was honest with himself Sam knew that the main reason for that was that he was afraid that he would find anything that made him like or understand them more. He wanted to hate angels, pure and simple as that. It made all of this more bearable.

It didn't take Sam long to find what an Archangel was; they even had their own damn Wikipedia page and Sam wondered how it was possible that he had never heard about them.

After spending half an hour on the mass of information that Wikipedia alone offered, Sam knew that Archangels were angels in which the genes that made the winged bastards stronger and just physically more advanced where mutated and even stronger than in normal angels.

There were a lot of theories how it worked, but Sam didn't really have the calm to sit down and read through them all. It didn't matter what caused the change – at least not now – all he needed to know was that apparently Lucifer was considered some kind of freak himself.

If you could believe the internet they were accepted and respected for their strength and their senses, but they weren't considered as angels who should mate and give their genetic material to further generations. They were useful, but they weren't pure.

Upon further research he found out that most Archangels worked in the armed forces or police services and that it was often hard for them to find 'normal' jobs because they were considered to be prone to violence.

If Lucifer was any indication, those public opinions were probably right for a change, but Sam had been the victim of bias often enough himself so he pushed the thought down as soon as it came up.

Okay. So Lucifer was an Archangel and he wasn't supposed to mate; well, Sam wasn't either so that wasn't a real problem.

He wondered if Lucifer had been in the army, too. It would make sense since he definitely was older than most of the other students and sometimes he moved in a way that had Sam thinking that he was hurting – of course he never said anything, mostly because he was sure that Lucifer was only letting his armor slip when he was sure Sam wasn't watching.

And it would explain why the other angels avoided him even more, it was said that death was one of the things angels could smell, though if you asked Sam that was utter bullshit.

As many Archangel's Lucifer had joined the Air Force and there was not much to be found about him but the medals he had been given told Sam enough while at the same time he longed to know more about the angel he saw as his.

He only knew that Lucifer had been a Master Sergeant within the Air Force and had received several medals. The Prisoner of War Medal alone said a lot, as did the Medal of Honor about which Sam had never know nor imagined.

Something horrible had happened to Lucifer, maybe he didn't see it that way, maybe for him it had been just another wound or just another fight but everything Sam had seen of him in the last days, month actually confirmed his initial reaction.

Something horrible had happened to Lucifer and suddenly Sam felt the burning urge to protect him, to make sure he was never hurt again. But to do this he first needed to know what the hell was going on and so he clamped down on his more primal urges and continued his research.

The whole mating bond thing was a bit more complicated. It apparently had a lot to do with matching genes and the best possible children that could come out of the union; it functioned on a broader lock and key model.

There wasn't only one mate for each angel, but the future mate had to have certain molecular structures that fit the ones of the angel for the scent to form. Sam only understood half of what the  
books and the internet said, but if he went with the simple school explanation, it was basically a biological – and as some scientist believed – emotional match between the two individuals forming the bond.

How anyone could ever get the stupid idea that he and Lucifer were biologically compatible Sam didn't know. He was a half-breed, he wasn't pure, he wasn't right, neither when it came to angels nor when it came to humans.

But apparently they had to match, otherwise there would be no bond, no matter how much they liked each other – which they didn't, mind you.

Very much not satisfied with the fact that he could actually be a match for an angel, Sam went to the next theme on his list, taking a short break to calm down his wings that had puffed up and started to thrash a bit, though he didn't really know if it was in annoyance and anger or excitement.

Better not to think about it too much.

Looking up angelic mating behavior was more than a little uncomfortable and weird, but Sam forced himself to not just shut the computer down and run away. He needed to know if he had missed the giant pink elephant in the room for the last few month!

And yeah, apparently he had. At least that was his conclusion after about three hours of research.

All those little gestures like bringing him food and sitting together with him to eat it had been to show him that Lucifer cared for him, that he could provide for him and that he liked being close to him.

Bringing food for another angel was a gesture that was deeply embedded in the angelic genes; it was an urge that most scientists were sure came from the time where a partner providing with food was still necessary.

So Lucifer had basically been trying to show him that he could care for Sam. The whole grooming thing had something to do with that too, though only the part where it was about cleaning.

When he had groomed Sam's wings until Sam was asleep it had been entirely about affection. Never really learning much about his wings, Sam had only been dimly aware of the trust and intimacy it showed to let someone touch your wings when they didn't need to be groomed.

By letting Lucifer do it every night he had wordlessly told him that his affection and attention was welcome and wanted, that he should continue because he liked this and maybe it would mean he would consider more.

What made Sam feel like the biggest asshole in the world was that by blanketing Sam with his wing Lucifer hadn't only lavished even more affection onto him, but had also silently asked for Sam to touch him too, to return what Lucifer was giving him.

And Sam never had, not really. He had laid a hand on the wings, burrowing his fingers in the feathers. It had been barely enough to sooth Lucifer, but apparently even the smallest touches could show interest and Sam was pretty sure that Lucifer was stubborn enough to just silently suffer through the small hope that was given to him every night.

The violence with which he reacted towards Zachariah was easily explained too. For one Sam saw Lucifer as his and Archangels were very territorial. He didn't want to see anyone close to what was 'his', but most of all he wanted to protect Sam at every cost.

Sam had no doubt that he would have killed Zachariah without blinking and without remorse.

What had happened this morning had only shown how desperate Lucifer was for Sam to acknowledge what they had and give in return. It was an open gesture and one normally not shared before both future mates had grown close together, but Sam had been an asshole and Lucifer had just tried to get something he probably needed as desperately as Sam had before he had so selfishly taken everything that had been offered.

And all that just made it clearer to him how deeply hurt Lucifer was and how much he hated himself for hurting him even more. The strange urge to protect had only grown stronger and was now filled with a longing he had never felt before.

When he finally shut the computer down, Sam had a headache and he felt like the biggest ass in the world. Right next to the little voice in the back of his head that was telling him he was supposed to freak the fuck out.

Lucifer was interested in him. He really was, not just some pretend thing, not a ploy to hurt him, but the real deal. There was no way Lucifer would be able to hurt him without hurting himself, not with the bond forming. He would... he would be there forever.

The thought should have probably frightened him, being together with Lucifer, with an angel, forever. With someone that had been cold and distant with him most of the time, but at the same time the most caring person Sam had ever met outside his family, always ready to care for him and offer him the only kind of intimacy he knew.

But it didn't really, instead it made something in him flutter, feeling warm. The warm feeling was probably the scariest part of all. Until now he had ignored the part where both he and Lucifer had to feel drawn to each other for the bond to form.

He had treated it like a problem he could solve. But there was nothing to be solved here, nothing he could do about it. And the truth he forced himself to admit was, he didn't even want to solve it. Rationally he knew that being bonded to someone for the rest of his life was something he should be afraid of, especially if the person was Lucifer, but his emotions told a whole other story.

Sam felt excited and he felt happy. He was absolutely terrified but he wasn't afraid of what would happen if they bonded but what would happen if he lost the bond.

Sam didn't even bother to close the books; instead, he practically jumped out of his seat and nearly ran out of the library. He had made up his mind, he wanted this. He wanted Lucifer, wanted a bond, someone who could make him feel safe and warm.

But he also knew how many things could go wrong and if he gave himself any more time to think about it, he would freak out again and end up hiding behind his fears once more. Using all his bad experiences as an excuse to stay miserable.

Panting, he arrived at his room. He had actually run the way, hoping to keep himself from thinking long enough to actually admit that this was something he wanted too to Lucifer. It took him longer than usual to get his key out and get it into the lock, a fact that was probably due to his shaking hands.

Pushing the door open Sam could already feel the old feeling of dread and worry creeping up at the edge of his mind, making him nauseous. But for once Sam was pretty sure his instincts were wrong and for the first time in a very long while he didn't want to listen to them.

Bile was creeping up the back of his throat, his body reacting to the mix of excitement and panic. Sam knew he was going to bolt any second, turn around and run back out of that door, burying every ounce of want under tons of denial like he had always done.

This time this couldn't happen, this time he wanted to do this, he wanted to take the chance even if it meant getting his heart broken.

“Sam?” Lucifer had turned around where he was sitting on the bed, a bunch of books all around him.

And before he could flee or even so much as think Sam was over there, throwing himself at Lucifer, afraid that he would force himself away again any second.

He wound both his arms and his wings around Lucifer, holding him tight and breathing in the scent that told him safe, taken care of, home. A shudder went through Sam when Lucifer's hands found their way into his wings and the angel’s wings curved around him, holding him in a cocoon of feathers.

“Sam,” Lucifer murmured, turning his head until his cheek was resting against Sam's. A soft shudder went through Sam as the angel's breath ghosted over his ear. “Sammy.”

Normally Sam would have told the angel that he was called Sam and not Sammy, but he couldn't bring it over himself to wipe away the wonder and the joy from Lucifer's voice.

“Luc,” he replied softly and then hesitated, all his muscles clenching in anxiety as he added, barely audible, “Mate.”

A shudder went through Lucifer and he pulled Sam closer, his beautiful black wings suddenly flaring out beside him, before closing in tight around Sam once more.

“Mate,” he agreed, his voice a deep growl as he pressed his nose against Sam's neck, breathing him in in a way that made Sam shake with need. “My mate. Mine.”

Sam laughed softly and his hands found their way into Lucifer's wings, gently stroking and massaging the muscles and the soft feathers, drawing a breathy keen from Lucifer which had Sam wondering how long it had been since someone had lavished attention onto the angel. It was probably as long ago as it had been for Sam.

“Yeah, yours,” he agreed belatedly.

Smiling, Sam leaned forward, his lips finding Lucifer's in a tentative and gentle kiss, while his hands started on giving Lucifer's wings all the attention they deserved.

His life might not be perfect; he was still an abomination, he was still something that wasn't right, but now he had someone beautiful and incredible to call his own. Sam wasn't alone anymore and that was probably the greatest gift of them all.

Whatever happened, Sam would never have to be alone again.

**Author's Note:**

> So I wrote this for 's birthday though it got a bit out of hand and ate my soul ;)  
> A giant thanks to for the speedy beta, all remaining errors are my own. You are awesome bb and I couldn't have done this without you!
> 
> Working out the genetics took me a whole evening and I have whole ancestral charts and pages about how the genetics works so if anyone wants to know more, feel free to ask!


End file.
